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X 


SEEMONS. 


CHAKLES  WADSWOKTH, 


MINISTER   OF    CALYAKY   CHUECJl,   SAN   FKANCISCO. 


NEW  YORK  AND  SAN  FRANCISCO. 

A.  ROMAN  &  COMPANY,  PUBLISHERS 

1869. 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1SC9,  by 

A.  ROMAN  &  COMPANY, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 

Southern  District  of  New  York. 


ALVOKD,    PRINTER. 


AD  YERTISEMEN  T. 


This  volume  is  published  at  the  request  of  personal 
friends  who  desire  to  possess,  in  permanent  form,  some  of 
the  ordinary  and  miscellaneous  discourses  delivered  from 
their  pulpit.  The  selection  has  been  made  with  regard 
simply  to  variety.  And  in  furnishing  the  MSS.,  the 
author  has  felt  at  liberty  neither  to  recast  their  forms  of 
thought,  nor  remove  such  redundancy  of  style  as  all 
speakers  find  necessary  when  writing  for  oral  delivery. 
It  has  seemed  to  him  that  the  request  contemplated  an 
exact  reproduction  of  the  spoken  discourse,  and  beyond 
a  compliance  with  that  request,  he  has,  in  this  publica- 
tion, no  expectation. 

Sax  Francisco,  Jan.  18G9. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

God's  Thoughts 1 

The  One  Idea 20 

Prejudice 36 

Insincere  Unbelief 53 

The  Gospel  Call 71 

Development  and  Discipline 92 

Self-Knowledge 112 

Christian  Influence 131 

Grace  and  Works 152 

The  Division  of  Spoil 175 

Eedemption 190 


CONTENTS. 

PACK 

Tiie  Child-Teacher 200 


Communion 221 

The  Mortal  Immortalized 231 

A  Spectacle  to  Angels 241 

TnANKFULNESS 254 

The  Feast  of  Harvest 27(3 

The  Young  Man's  Mission 305 

The  Mother's  Sorrow 329 

Progress  in  Decay 352 


SERMONS. 


"GOD'S    THOUGHTS." 

"My  thoughts  are  not  your  thoughts,  soith  the  Lord." — Isaiah,  Iv.  8. 

The  word  "  thought "  is  here  used  objectively.  It  ex- 
presses a  result  and  not  a  process.  Essentially  perhaps 
all  thought-power  is  alike.  Certainly  in  all  our  attempts 
to  consider  God,  we  must  reason  analogically  from  the 
finite.  We  can  form  no  idea  of  any  divine  attribute  ex- 
cept from  its  miniature  in  humanity.  And  we  are  to 
regard  it  not  as  a  mere  figure  of  speech,  that  God  made 
man  in  his  own  image  as  well  mental  as  moral.  The 
Divine  intellect  may  be  spoken  of  as  the  glorious  arche- 
type after  which  finite  mind  was  cast.  And  although, 
as  bringing  infinity  into  conditions  of  time  and  space, 
all  language  must  express  falsehood  when  concerned 
with  Deity,  yet  when  the  Bible  speaks  of  God  as  in 
the  exercise  of  volitions  and  emotions,  we  are  not  to 
regard  it  as  mere  accommodation  to  a  false  tisus  loquendi, 
but  as  a  true  representation.  The  Godhead  is  not  an 
impassible  composite  of  infinite  wisdom  and  power.  His 
purposes  are  not  immense  icebergs  floating  downward 
1 


2  GOD'S    THOUGHTS. 

in  a  fathomless  inexorable  gulf-stream  of  sovereignty. 
lie  is  my  Heavenly  Father,  and  all  his  sovereignty  is 
love.  "We  do  not  dishonor  God  by  likening  him  unto 
man.  We  only  honor  man  as  God  honored  him  when 
made  in  his  own  image,  when  we  say  that  in  regard  of 
faculties  in  essence,  and  feelings  in  exercise,  the  human 
mind  was  fashioned  after  the  infinite  Archetype. 

The  assertion  of  the  text  that  "  God's  thoughts  are  not 
man's  thoughts''''  describes  a  result  not  a  process,  and 
with  this  necessary  and  manifest  limitation  let  us  pro- 
ceed to  consider  it.  "We  are  first  to  illustrate  and  then 
apply  the  truth,  that  God's  thoughts  are  not  our  own 
thoughts. 

First,  we  are  to  illustrate  it.  And  here  we  need  only 
contrast  the  human  with  the  Divine  style  of  thinking. 
Observe  some  particulars :  1 .  Creation — I  mean  the  ma- 
terial universe  in  its  forms  and  phenomena.  This  is  one 
of  God's  thoughts.  As  every  product  of  human  skill  is 
but  a  human  thought  realized — inasmuch  as  painting, 
sculpture,  architecture,  are  but  expressions  in  material- 
ism of  simple  pre-existent  ideas  in  the  mind  of  the  artist, 
just  so  is  it  of  God's  handiwork.  The  visible  creation 
that  surrounds  us  on  every  side  and  spreads  away  into 
immensity  beyond  us,  is  only  an  embodied  thought  of 
the  infinite,  uncreated  Intelligence. 

Or,  dividing  this  vast  whole  into  parts,  and  regarding 
each  part  as  a  particular  thought  of  the  Eternal,  you 
may  speak  of  this  earth  as  one  of  God's  thoughts,  and 
yonder  sun  as  one  of  God's  thoughts. 

Or,  still  further  descending,  you  may  regard  the. human 
body,  and  the  soul,  and  the  ocean,  and  the  cataract,  and  the 
volcano,  and  the  singing-bird,  and  the  lily,  and  the  dew- 


GOD'S     THOUGHTS.  3 

drop,  and  the  rainbow,  find  the  lightning,  and  the  murmur- 
ing stream,  and  the  roaring  thunder — these,  and  indeed  all 
various  material  forms  and  phenomena,  you  may  regard 
as  nothing  else  than  God's  goodful  and  glorious  thoughts, 
expressed  physically,  written  radiantly  on  the  tablets,  or 
uttered  musically  in  the  voices  of  the  universe. 

Creation,  then,  in  all  its  grand  complication,  is  only  a 
manifest  thought  of  the  Infinite  Intelligence. 

And  tell  me  if  it  he  at  all  like  one  of  man's  thoughts ! 
Equip  man  with  omnipotence,  and  set  him  to  create  a 
universe — and  would  it  resemble  the  universe  as  it  is  ? 
By  no  means  !  For,  observe,  1st.  That  man's  universe 
"would  be  absolutely  consolidated.  Into  one  immense 
continent  would  all  these  world-islands  be  cast,  and  all 
tribes  and  types  of  life  inhabit  it  as  a  common  dwelling ! 
And  yet  how  unlike  this  is  the  divine  work.  You  find 
throughout  it  comparatively  no  grand  consolidations,  but 
innumerable  worlds,  all  immeasurably  separated,  each 
hopelessly  secluded. 

And  this  is  not  after  man's  thought.  For  his  agoniz- 
ing regret  this  day  is  that  he  can  not  fling  the  line  of  a 
mighty  telegraph  from  star  to  star,  and  thus,  even  in  face 
of  the  immutable  ordinances  of  heaven,  gather  these  iso- 
lated islands  of  life  into  one  vast  virtual  consolidation ! 

Observe,  2dly.  That  a  universe  pixrjected  by  man 
would  be  motionless  and  steadfast.  We  build  our  homes, 
not  on  the  waters,  that  they  may  be  locomotive,  but  on 
the  shore,  that  they  may  be  fixed.  But  God's  universe 
is  in  everlasting  motion.  The  earth  whereon  we  dwell, 
and  the  systems  of  worlds  that  surround  it,  are  rushing 
through  space  with  inconceivable  velocity.  And  all  this 
is  assuredly  not  according  to  human  wisdom.     We  may, 


4  GOD'S    THOUGHTS. 

• 
indeed,  upon  reflection,  learn  the  optimism  of  the  arrange- 

menl  ;  but  confessedly,  a  priori,  we  should  not  so  have 

ordered  it. 

And  so,  without  further  argument,  it  appears  manifest 
that  a  universe  so  divided,  and  revolving,  is  not  such  a 
material  system  as  an  almighty  man  would  have  con- 
trived; and  standing  forth  this  day  as  one  of  God's 
thoughts  made  manifest,  it  clearly  demonstrates  the  text's 
truth,  That  the  thoughts  of  God  are  not  like  man's 
thoughts. 

Or,  descending  from  the  survey  of  a  univei'se  of  worlds 
to  consider  the  economy  of  a  single  world,  even  with 
greater  force  shall  Ave  feel  the  same  truth.  Set  a  man  to 
construct  a  single  world,  and  would  it  be  like  this  world? 
Would  man  have  spread  over  three-quarters  of  its  entire 
surface  this  waste  of  waters  ?  or  have  flung  up  these  im- 
mense mountain-ranges  ?  or  spread  out  these  desolate 
sand-plains  ?  Would  he  have  produced,  after  their  kinds, 
these  tribes  of  brutal  life,  and  filled  the  wilderness  with 
ravening  beasts,  and  the  ocean  with  monsters?  Would 
he,  in  short,  have  made  such  a  world  as  this  ?  I  am  not, 
indeed,  intimating  that  any  wise  man  really  thinks  he 
could  have  contrived  a  better  one.  The  man  who  hon- 
est lv  believes  he  can  improve  a  divine  work  is  no  son  of 
Solomon.  And  true  philosophy  will  ever  confess  that 
what  seemeth  "the  foolishness  of  God  is  wiser  than 
men."  But  I  am  insisting  here  that  there  is  a  broad 
difference  between  a  human  and  a  divine  ideal  of  world- 
making. 

And  I  repeat,  that  such  a  world  .as  this  no  wise  man 
would  have  created,  lie  would  have  filled  up  the  ocean 
with    plow-ground,    and    sloped    the    mountains    gently 


GOD'S    TEOUOnTS.  5 

for  vineyards,  and  covered  with  rich  verdure  the  sands 
of  the  wilderness.     And  the  waters  would  have  brought 

forth  after  their  kind  only  beautiful  things,  and  every 
creature  moving  in  the  forests  would  have  been  musical 
and  fair ;  and  the  sky  would  have  been  without  cloud  on 
its  rich  blue,  and  the  year  without  winter  or  storm  in  its 
long  summer  of  loveliness.  So  that  a  world  fresh  from 
the  hand  of  a  human  creator  would  have  seemed,  as  well 
in  the  economy  of  its  life  as  of  its  materialism,  altogether 
unlike  the  world  we  inhabit.  For  this  world  is  one  of 
God's  thoughts,  and  such  a  world  would  be  one  of  man's 
thoughts ;  and  herein  is  the  truth  made  manifest,  that 
God's  thoughts  are  not  like  man's  thoughts. 

Now  we  might  pursue  this  line  of  thought  indefinitely, 
but  with  this  simple  indication  of  our  meaning,  let  us 
pass  to  another  general  illustration,  and  observe, 

Secondly,  That  Providence  is  one  of  God's  peculiar 
thoughts.  I  use  the  word  here  in  its  widest  sense,  as 
expressing  God's  management  of  his  universe  after  its 
creation.  And  whether  we  regard  the  entire  economy 
of  Providence  as  a  stupendous  whole,  or  each  successive 
development  in  its  separation,  the  same  truth  will  be 
manifest. 

Endow  a  wise  man  with  omnipotence,  and  enthrone 
him  as  sovereign  of  the  universe,  and  would  he  govern 
it  as  God  has  governed,  and  does  yet  govern,  it  ?  Study 
that  economy  of  Providence  as  it  had  to  do  with  our 
world  before  man  inhabited  it.  Read  with  o-eoloo-v 
the  record  written  on  the  planet's  crust,  and  you  will 
perceive  how,  during  innumerable  ages,  earth  was  the 
home  of  successive  races,  each  of  a  higher  life  and  finer 
organization  than  its  predecessor;    so   that  the   grand 


P>  GOD'S    THOUGHTS. 

law  of  that  Providence  was  an  almost  imperceptible 
progress  through  incalculable  ages  of  ages, — and  would 
a  wise  man  so  have  ordered  it?  Why,  so  unphilosophic 
does  all  this  seem,  that  we  can  hardly  persuade  our- 
selves to  accept  God's  handwriting  on  these  adamantine 
tablets  as  true  records  of  our  doings?  Man  certainly 
would  have  ordered  the  whole  thing  differently.  Instead 
of  those  mysterious  periods  of  slowly  ascending  life,  he 
would  have  rounded  earth  into  beauty  at  first  as  a  home 
for  immortals,  and  breathed  divine  life  into  man  made 
in  God's  image. 

Or  if  we  confine  our  thoughts  to  the  present  economy 
of  Providence,  the  same  truth  will  be  apparent.  Surely 
a  wise  man  would  not  order  things  as  Jehovah  orders 
them.  The  history  of  a  human  administration  would 
not  read  like  the  world's  history  through  the  last  sixty 
centuries.  That  destruction  of  the  primitive  Eden ; 
those  ages  of  antediluvian  abomination  ;  those  wander- 
ings and  wars  of  God's  chosen  people ;  those  periodic 
visitations  of  famine  and  pestilence,  mantling  earth  with 
sackcloth ;  those  barbaric  battles,  wherein  eighteen  times 
the  entire  population  of  the  globe  has  been  swept  away 
in  carnage ;  these,  and  such  as  these,  are  God's  provi- 
dential thoughts  ;    and  are  they  like  man's  thoughts  ? 

Nay,  look  at  the  providential  aspect  of  things  even 
now  on  the  face  of  the  planet — how  darkness  covers 
the  earth  and  gross  darkness  the  people ! — of  the  hun- 
dreds of  millions  of  living  men,  at  least  three  quarters 
degraded  to  the  depths  of  ignorance  and  superstition! 
Behold  how  righteousness  is  depressed,  and  iniquity 
enthroned  and  triumphant !  How  unequal  the  distri- 
bution of  the  evil  and  the  good  !  how  limited  the  dif- 


GOD'S    THOUGHTS.  7 

fusion  of  Christianity  and  civilization  !  Yea,  behold 
what  oppressions,  what  violence,  what  boastful  iniquity, 
what  throes  of  agony,  what  convulsions  among  kingdoms 
and  nations,  as  if  the  great  heart  of  the  race  were  break- 
ing in  the  overstrain  of  its  bondage,  until  all  this  air, 
once  musical  with  the  song  of  the  sons  of  God,  is  filled 
with  lamentation  and  requiem! 

Now  endow  a  wise  and  good  man  with  divine  sover- 
eignty, and  would  he  manage  things  in  this  way?  I  do 
not  ask  if  he  could  devise  better  things  ?  I  know  he 
could  not.  I  may  not  understand  it,  yet  certain  I  am 
that  in  the  sublime  purpose  of  bringing  good  out  of  evil, 
there  is  manifest  in  the  present  providential  economy 
the  most  absolute  omniscience.  Our  dissatisfaction  with 
God's  doings  is  the  result  of  our  finitude.  "We  judge 
prematurely — calling  the  fruit  sour,  because  it  hath  not 
ripened.  We  judge  selfishly — bemoaning  the  pearly 
shell  as  it  breaks  round  the  plumes  of  the  imperial  eagle. 
We  judge  partially — observing  only  the  one  wheel 
which  seems  aimlessly  revolving  in  mire  and  dust,  and 
not  the  whole  flaming  chariot  in  its  career  of  victory. 
We  judge  from  wrong  stand-points — looking  from  the 
footstool  upward  to  the  cloud's  dark  side,  and  not  down- 
ward from  the  throne  of  God  upon  its  ineffable  bright- 
ness. Our  judgments  are  false,  because  finite.  And 
yet  swayed  by  such  judgments,  I  repeat  it,  as  Jehovah 
governs  the  world  to-day  no  wise  man  would  govern 
it.  Surely  on  this  point  "  God's  thoughts  are  not  our 
thoughts."  Place  at  the  head  of  human  affairs  an 
omnipotent  philanthropist,  and  how  soon  would  every 
dark  thing  be  swept  from  a  groaning  creation.  How 
the   captive  would  leap  from  his  chain,  and  the  con- 


8  GOD'S    THOUGHTS. 

qucror  lay  oft*  his  mail,  and  the  cries  of  violence  cease, 
and  the  rod  of  the  oppressor  be  broken!  How  these 
dark  places  of  cruelty  would  be  irradiated  with  heavenly 
light,  and  Christianity,  borne  as  on  angel-wings,  circle 
the  round  world;  and  man  in  the  glory  of  his  primitive 
creation,  yea,  in  the  higher  glory  of  his  redeemed  and 
regenerated  nature  would  stand  gloriously  up  on  a 
renewed  earth  to  mate  with  the  crowned  children  of 
the  skies,  in  the  looking-for  of  destinies  as  high,  in 
the  inspiration  of  energies  as  unabating ! 

Surely  we  all  must  acknowledge  this !  A  world 
under  a  human  providence  would  be  in  all  aspects 
unlike  the  world  as  it  is.  For  such  a  providence 
would  be  a  thought  of  man,  and  Providence  as  it  is, 
is  a  thought  of  God,  and  herein  again  is  the  text's  truth 
illustrated  thus  "  Your  thoughts  are  not  my  thoughts, 
saith  the  Lord." 

Now  were  there  limits  and  a  necessity,  the  same 
train  of  illustration  might  be  pursued  in  regard  of 
things  spiritual;  and  quite  as  apparent  would  it  be 
that  finite  human  wisdom  would  not  have  written  such 
a  book  as  this  Bible,  nor  devised  such  a  plan  of  sal- 
vation as  it  embodies.  But  we  may  not  enlarge.  And 
indeed,  as  we  may  be  addressing  some  disposed  to 
cavil  at  revelation  on  just  this  ground,  what  we 
have  to  say  on  this  point  will  best  be  said  under  our 
other  division. 

Passing  then  from  the  text  argument,  let  us  attend, 
Secondly,  to  its  Application. 

I.  And  our  first  remark  is  addressed  to  this  very 
class,  who  reject  the  Bible  because  to  their  finitude  it 
seems  either  unwise  or  incomprehensible. 


GOD'S    THOUGHTS.  9 

You  will  not  mistake  the  application.  We  are  not 
admitting-  that  there  is  in  the  Bible  aught  but  a  dis- 
play of  the  very  highest  wisdom.  On  this  point  every 
infidel  cavil  has  been  a  thousand  times  answered,  and 
we  need  not  here  pause  to  review  the  advocacy.  We 
would  simply  bring  upon  the  unbeliever's  conscience 
the  truth  we  have  in  hand.  We  have  shown  you  how 
in  creation  and  Providence  there  are  many  things  hard 
to  be  understood,  and  bearing,  at  first  view,  the  seem- 
ing of  foolishness.  So  that  had  man  been  the  architect 
and  administrator,  there  would  have  been  a  different 
world  and  a  different  economy  of  government.  And 
so,  mark  you,  from  all  this  you  must  draw  arguments 
against  creation  and  Providence  as  the  manifest 
"  thoughts  of  God,"  ere,  from  the  same  things  observ- 
able in  the  Bible,  you  object  to  it  as  a  divine  revela- 
tion. 

Indeed,  were  there  occasion,  we  might  here  exhibit 
an  analogy  so  wonderfully  fine  between  nature  and 
revelation  as  to  demonstrate  their  common  origin  and 
inspiration.  They  are  evidently  "thoughts"  of  the 
same  supreme  intellect. 

Alas  for  the  consistency  of  unbelief!  Every  argu- 
ment against  inspiration  is  an  argument  for  atheism ! 
You  tell  me  of  large  portions  of  the  Bible,  such  as  its 
long  catalogues  of  barbaric  names  which  seem  utterly 
useless.  And  I  tell  you  that  along  the  surface  of  our 
globe  there  are  vast  regions  of  desert  and  rock  as 
apparently  useless. 

You  tell  me  how  God,  in  the  Bible,  allowed  and 
sanctioned  bloody  wars  demonstrative  of  cruelty.  And 
I  tell  you  that  under  God's  providential  rule,  have  been 
l* 


10  GOD'S    THOUGHTS. 

permitted  wars  more  terrible  and  destructive  than 
inspired  men  ever  dreamed  of! 

You  tell  me  that  the  Bible's  grand  central  truth- 
man's  redemption  by  an  Incarnate  God — is  an  absurd- 
ity; that  the  very  thought  of  such  infinite  condescension 
of  the  Divine  nature  is  the  egotism  of  human  madness. 
And  I  tell  you  that  the  great  central  truth  of  Creation 
and  Providence — that  God  hath  condescended  to  create 
and  preserve  man — is  just  as  absurd. 

Yes,  and  I  might  carry  this  comparison  between  the 
hard  things  of  nature  and  the  hard  things  of  revelation, 
to  any  conceivable  extent;  and  fast  as  you  proved  from 
the  one  that  there  is  no  God  in  the  Bible,  I  would  prove 
out  of  your  own  mouth,  as  well,  that  there  is  no  God  in 
the  universe. 

In  all  these  declamatory  cavils  against  revelation,  men 
are  forgetting  the  great  truth,  written  as  with  sunbeams 
on  the  very  forefront  of  the  universe,  that,  "  As  the  heav- 
ens are  higher  than  the  earth,  so  are  God's  thoughts 
higher  than  man's  thoughts  !" 

The  poor  erring  creature  of  an  hour,  who  can  not  build 
a  hovel  that  will  not  leak,  nor  weave  a  perfect  garment 
to  cover  him,  he — wonderful  man  that  he  is — would  lift 
his  thoughts  into  brotherhood  with  God's  thoughts,  and 
adjust  the  complicate  sublimities  of  revelation  by  the 
square  and  the  line  of  his  insignificant  faculties !  Why, 
the  sceptic  should  begin  further  back  and  earlier  with 
his  scepticism  !  As  his  arguments  lie  as  strongly  against 
creation  and  Providence — upon  them,  as  God's  earliest 
mistakes,  he  should  lift  up  his  logic.  Go  to,  then,  ye 
despisers  of  this  Bible  !  Get  ye  to  the  councils  of  eter- 
nity, and  enlighten  the  Divine  mind  on  the  true  philoso- 


GOD'S    THOUGHTS.  11 

phy  of  -world-making  and.  world-managing !  Go  level 
yonder  mountain  !  Go  subdue  this  raging  ocean  !  Go 
free  yonder  sun  from  its  spots  !  Go  bestud  yonder  fir- 
mament with  gems  of  greater  glory  !  Go  roll  those  con- 
stellations through  the  skies  in  more  harmonious  and 
magnificent  revolutions !  Go  persuade  the  Eternal  One 
that  your  thoughts  are  best  when  worlds  are  to  be  cre- 
ated and  governed!  And  then  you  shall  have  full  license 
to  lift  up  hammer  and  ax  upon  the  carved  work  of  our 
sanctuary;  and  then  will  God  delight  to  sit  at  your  feet, 
learning  how  to  reveal  himself  as  a  God  and  a  Saviour. 
For  then  will  our  text  be  only  a  great  falsehood — "And 
your  ways  icill  be  God's  ways,  and  your  thoughts  will  be 
God's  thoughts,  saith  the  Lord  of  Hosts." 

II.  But  though  I  may  not  be  addressing  infidelity  as 
bold  as  this,  yet  I  am  surely  addressing  infidelity,  if  of  a 
milder  type,  yet  as  sadly  disastrous.  Within  our  own  time 
a  new  philosophy  hath  invaded  the  church  of  Christ,  with 
its  watchwords  "spiritual  insight,"  and  "the  moral  rea- 
son," and  "intuitional  capacity,"  setting  itself  to  over- 
throw the  indispensable  condition  of  all  true  piety — the 
entire,  unquestioning,  adoring  submission  alike  of  life,  and 
conscience,  and  intellect  unto  God.  And  while  the  church 
receives  not  this  philosophy  formally  —  for  this  were 
openly  to  deny  the  faith — yet,  under  its  insidious  and 
malign  influence,  there  has  come  to  pass  a  setting  up 
within  Zionof  our  own  intellectual  and  moral  judgments 
as  critic  and  arbiter  of  the  great  doctrines  of  revelation. 

Doctrines  that  are  profound  or  mysterious,  if  not 
openly  rejected,  are  at  least  modified  to  square  with  our 
philosophy.  And  the  positive  declarations  of  God  are 
lowered  to  the  comprehension  of  our  natm-al  reason. 


12  GOD'S    THOUGHTS. 

For  example:  The  doctrine  of  the  adorable  Trinity  in 
unity,  while  clearly  revealed  in  Scripture,  is  confessedly 
altogether  above  our  reason,  which  we  are  to  accept  in- 
tellectually on  the  alone  ground,  that  unquestioning 
faith  in  God's  word  is  the  highest  function  and  exhi- 
bition of  reason ;  and  yet  men,  thinking  to  subject  the 
infinite  to  the  finite,  ply  this  great  truth  with  their  logic 
until,  on  the  one  hand,  the  Divine  unity  is  lost  in  a  three- 
fold Godhead,  or,  on  the  other,  the  Divine  Trinity  sunk 
with  a  threefold  manifestation — the  simple  dramatis  per- 
sonce  of  a  Divine  revelation  ! 

And  so  of  the  doctrine  of  the  two  natures  in  Christ, 
of  the  Divine  sovereignty  as  it  stands  related  to  human 
free-agency,  of  original  sin,  and  imputation,  and  justifi- 
cation by  faith,  and  the  regeneration  of  the  spirit,  and  the 
resurrection  of  the  body;  these  doctrines,  and  others  of 
this  type,  are  all  subjected  to  our  poor  finite  logic,  to  be 
lowered  to  our  comprehension  or  adjusted  into  the  har- 
mony of  a  philosophic  creed. 

And  in  all  this  we  are  practically  and  fearfully  infidel. 
We  are  putting  this  fair  body  of  God's  truth  to  the 
torture,  to  compel  a  false  \itterance  !  We  are  claiming  for 
our  reason  a  positive  Omniscience  !  We  are  ma/king  our 
thoughts  God's  thoughts,  and  Gods  thoughts  our  thoughts. 

Alas,  foolish  reasoner  !  dare  you  carry  the  same  canons 
of  cavil  into  God's  world  of  nature?  Are  there  no 
mysteries,  either  in  Creation  or  Providence,  which  you 
can  neither  comprehend  in  their  separation,  nor  compass 
in  their  harmonious  co-existence  ?  Is  there  no  mystery 
in  this  whole  present  march  and  management  of  things 
beyond  the  line  of  your  logic  ?  Is  there  no  mystery  in 
this  universal  mingling  of  evil  with   good — this  virtue 


GOD'S    T710UGETS.  13 

depressed — this  vice  enthroned  and  triumphant?  Tn 
that  tear  in  the  eye  of  faith,  in  that  pang  in  the  heart 
of  love  ?  Can  you  reconcile  it  with  your  Arcadian  ideal 
of  infinite  goodness — the  barbarity  of  great  national  war- 
fare— the  baleful  comet  scattering  terror  through  the 
skies — the  earthquake  engulfing  great  cities — the  vol- 
cano destroying  great  provinces — this  awful  reign  and 
shadow  of  Death  making  earth  one  great  sepulchre  ? 
Can  you  understand  all  these  things  and  their  mighty 
God  unto  perfection  ?  Alas  !  alas  !  my  hearers,  we 
have  not  yet  become  like  gods !  The  serpent-tempter 
lied  when  he  promised  it !  We  are,  as  yet  learners  in 
God's  school-room,  not  advisers  in  his  council-cham- 
ber !  We  shall  understand  things  better  by  and  by, 
when  eternity  flings  its  full  light  on  the  page  of  our 
scholarship  !  But  until  then  humility  is  the  apt  temper 
of  a  learner.  And  faith,  not  comprehension,  the  great 
law  of  the  scholarship!  Till  then  ours  must  be  the 
submission  of  an  infantile  mind  to  an  Infinite  Intelligence 
— the  trust  of  a  short-sighted  child  in  an  all-seeing 
Father — receiving  in  unquestioning  faith  every  truth  of 
God,  in  all  its  marvel  and  mystery.  "  For  our  thoughts 
are  not  GocVs  thoughts,  saith  the  Lord  of  Hosts." 

III.  But  the  thought  under  consideration  applies  as 
well  to  the  phenomena  of  Christianity  as  to  its  facts. 
Take,  for  example,  its  gradual  increase  and  develop- 
ment. 

The  characteristic  of  the  age  is  impatience  of  any 
thing  but  a  demonstrative  and  headlong  progress.  In 
the  accumulation  of  wealth,  in  the  diffusion  of  knowl- 
edge, in  the  processes  of  locomotion,  indeed  in  all  the 
march  and  movement  of  human  life,  the  old  standard  of 


14  GOD'S    THOUGHTS. 

steady  but  slow  advance  satisfies  no  one.  And,  sad  to 
tell,  this  impatience  goes  with  us  into  Christian  faith  and 
experience.  God's  operation  in  converting  the  world 
seems  too  slow  to  be  real.  And  we  are  overborne  with 
doubt  and  despondency  when  we  see  how,  after  eighteen 
long  centuries  of  struggle,  the  Gospel  hath  no  fuller 
course  and  no  greater  glory.  We  are  impatient  for 
moral  miracles.  We  would  have  nations  born  to  God  in 
a  day,  and  every  high  thing  that  exalteth  itself  against 
Heaven,  cast  down  as  a  dead  tree  by  a  storm,  in  the 
triumphant  march  of  the  Redeemer.  And  yet,  in  all 
this,  our  desire  is  only — alas  !  to  have,  "  our  thoughts 
God's  thoughts,  and  God's  thoughts  our  thoughts." 

For  tell  me  where,  either  in  creation  or  Providence, 
God  thus  hurries  to  conclusions  ?  How  many  ages  were 
consumed  in  the  slow  progress  whereby  this  planet 
became  fitted  for  human  habitation?  Why,  the  very 
fuel  consumed  in  your  houses  is  the  slow  product  of 
countless  years.  And  the  tiny  gem  of  your  adornment 
was  crystallized  only  in  an  immensity  of  generations  ! 
Jehovah's  great  law  of  work  is  no  hurrying  and  head- 
long progress.  He  works  slowly,  and  in  circles  of  im- 
mense sweep !  A  thousand  years  are  but  as  a  day  in 
the  majesty  of  his  movements.  And  in  all  this  quiet  and 
slow  progress  how  truly  Godlike  he  seems !  Man, 
poor  man,  in  the  evolution  of  his  purposes,  may  well  be 
impatient  and  restless,  for  he  distrusts  his  own  power 
and  the  wisdom  of  his  own  devices — his  whole  life  is  a 
hand's  breadth,  and  he  hath  no  space  for  delay.  But  in 
regard  of  God  working  with  infinite  resources  and  eter- 
nal duration,  how  glorious  is  the  majestic  quietude 
wherewith  he  slowly  evolves  his  stupendous  purposes. 


GOD'S    THOUGHTS.  15 

It  is  a  wonderful  manifestation  of  infinite  power,  and 
wisdom,  and  changelessness.  It  is  Godlike — God- 
like ! 

And  as  verily  Godlike,  mark  you,  in  redemption  as  in 
creation  and  Providence  !  We  ought  to  look  for  and 
glory  in  the  same  great  law  in  the  spiritual  as  in  the 
natural,  to  find  the  history  of  grace  written  in  the  same 
character  and  style  as  the  history  of  creation.  And 
what  is  the  style  of  God's  natural  history  ?  Why  the 
student  of  earth's  progress,  recorded  in  the  hieroglyphs 
of  geology,  finds  that  for  immense  periods  this  world  was 
peopled  by  monsters,  and  that  innumerable  genera- 
tions of  such  terrible  and  gigantic  forms  of  life  constitu- 
ted the  very  steps  in  its  progress  to  its  final  glory  as 
man's  dwelling-place. 

And  why  then  should  we  wonder,  nay,  why  rather 
should  we  not  rejoice,  to  find  an  analogy  to  all  this  in 
the  records  of  the  spiritual  ? — that,  so  to  speak,  the 
moral  geology  of  the  planet  is  but  a  counterpart,  or 
transcript,  of  the  physical ;  that  in  its  spiritual  strata,  as 
well,  embosomed  in  the  church's  annals  of  successive 
generations,  there  should  be  found  just  such  monstrous 
shapes,  great  heresies,  gigantic  apostasies,  dark  semi- 
heathenisms,  terrible  infidelities,  foul  Christian  abomina- 
tions, the  moral  mammoths  and  mastodons  of  those 
transition  ages  of  the  church  wherein  she  went  slowly 
on  to  her  glorious  consummation  ! 

This  is  the  way  God  works  always.  And  if  you 
accept  it  in  the  natural,  why  complain  of  it  in  the 
spiritual  ?  If  you  rejoice  to  know  that  the  jewel  set  in 
the  frontlet  of  a  king  is  the  slow  product  of  ages,  how 
can  you  look  that  he  shall  crystallize  in  the  years  of  a 


16  GOD'S    THOUGHTS. 

generation  the   great  brilliants  that  are   to  glorify  the 
diadem  of  a  God ! 

Indeed,  so  far  from  discouragements  in  this  slow  prog- 
ress of  Christianity,  we  have  therein  only  fuller  proof 
of  its  Divine  origin,  nobler  prophecy  of  its  ultimate  con- 
summation. It  is  demonstrating  its  adaptation  to  every 
stage  of  human  society,  every  order  of  human  mind, 
every  form  of  human  government.  "  All  other  religious 
systems  have  proved  local  and  temporary;  carried  across 
a  few  lines  of  longitude  and  latitude,  they  perish  as 
exotics ;  perpetuated  a  few  generations,  they  become  su- 
perannuated I"  But  in  the  slow,  sure,  steadfast  march  of 
Christianity  abroad  over  all  lands,  and  adown  the  genera- 
tions, it  approves  its  divine  life  and  origin.  Indeed,  had 
the  Gospel  sprung  into  full  glory  at  once,  we  should 
mistrust  it  as  a  momentary  triumph  of  the  human  and 
the  carnal. 

It  comes — sure  as  the  Eternal  One  sitteth  on  the  throne 
of  the  universe,  it  comes — the  glory  of  a  Gospel  triumph- 
ant over  all  enemies,  and  established  among  all  nations ! 
But  it  comes  not  as  man's  work  comes.  It  comes  not 
with  observation.  It  comes  in  the  slow,  and  quiet,  and 
resistless  might  wherewith  Omnipotence  ever  works. 
And  alas  for  our  feeble  faith  and  our  feeble  reason,  that 
would  have  it  otherwise  !  We  would  have  diamonds 
frozen  in  a  single  hour  like  a  winter  rain  drop !  We 
would  have  oak-trees  grown  in  a  single  night  like  the 
gourd  of  the  prophet !  We  would  have  the  great  earth 
shaken  by  miracle,  and  dead  empires  quickened  in  a 
moment  as  at  the  trumpet  of  the  Resurrection  !  "  We 
would  have  our  thoughts  God's  thoughts,  and  God's 
thoughts  our  thoughts" 


GOD'S    THOUGHTS.  17 

IV.  Finally :  There  is  a  still  more  consoling  applica- 
tion of  this  truth  to  things  unseen  and  eternal — Immor- 
tality— Immortality !  The  state  of  the  redeemed  and 
risen  spirit !  How  we  love  to  consider  its  conditions, 
and  ponder  the  realities  of  its  "  far  more  exceeding  and 
eternal  weight  of  glory !"  And  all  this  is  well  if  we 
think  reverently  and  wisely,  for  it  brightens  the  eye  and 
strengthens  the  nerve  of  the  racer  to  catch  the  sparkle 
of  the  crown-gems  that  glorify  the  goal  !  But  we  should 
advance  in  this  high  path,  remembering  how  unlike 
human  thoughts  are  the  thoughts  of  the  Infinite  One, 
and  not  presuming  to  build  heaven's  great  realities  out 
of  our  own  imaginations  ! 

The  grand  characteristic  and  charm  of  the  eternal 
world  is  its  utter  unlikeliness  to  the  temporal  and  earthly. 
And  therefore  unto  the  human  imagination,  powerful 
only  to  recombine  images  of  its  experience,  all  the  reali- 
ties of  heaven  must  remain  for  the  present,  unspeakable, 
inconceivable. 

A  Christian  on  earth  is  a  king's  child  far  away  from 
the  royal  palace,  and  kept  under  teachers — a  poor 
pilgrim  in  a  desert  making  painful  progress  to  an  unseen 
and  unknown  city  and  kingdom,  with  no  experience, 
and,  therefore,  no  ideas  of  the  splendors  of  royalty. 
And  suppose,  that  in  respect  of  the  earth,  a  king's  child, 
born  in  some  province,  and  never  leaving  the  sphere  of 
provincial  instructors,  should  set  himself  to  conceive  of 
the  glorious  realities  of  the  paternal  palace  and  kingdom. 
Or  that  a  pilgrim,  born  and  bred  amid  the  sands  of  the 
wilderness,  should  think  to  paint  for  himself  the  splen- 
dors of  the  imperial  metropolis.  Then  how  partial  and 
pitiful  would  be  their  loftiest  ideal !     The  boy's  dream 


18  GOD'S    THOUGHTS. 

of  the  palace  would  be  only  a  larger  school-room,  its 
appointments  perhaps  lovelier,  and  its  tasks  less  !  And 
the  pilgrim's  picture  of  metropolitan  glories  would  be 
only  a  larger  encampment,  with  perhaps  gaudier  tents 
in  the  wilderness. 

And  just  so  is  it  of  eternity.  With  an  imagination 
creative  only  in  rebuilding  things  visible,  man  can 
not  even  conceive  of  the  unseen  and  eternal.  Nor  does 
revelation  attempt  to  supply  the  deficiency.  It  tells  us, 
indeed,  what  there  is  not  in  heaven  !  And  in  a  few  figures 
gathered  from  present  experience,  sets  forth  some  acces- 
sories of  its  physical  realities.  But  it  tells  us  no  more. 
And,  alas,  with  this  little  the  mind  is  not  satisfied  !  It 
sets  itself  ambitiously  to  conceive  of  the  whole  grand 
reality.  It  gathers  together  the  fine  metaphors  of  reve- 
lation— the  trees  of  life,  and  the  rivers  of  gladness,  and 
the  palms  of  victory,  and  the  thrones  of  power ;  and 
taking  what  is  at  the  most  only  figure  for  literal  descrip- 
tion, and  what  is  at  best  an  accessory  for  a  grand 
element,  dresses  up  for  itself  a  realm  of  fancy,  whose 
entire  fashion  and  furniture  are  of  "  things  seen "  and 
"  things  temporaV 

Alas,  foolish  reasoner  !  All  as  foolish  as  a  tiny  chrysalis 
which  should  dream  of  the  broad  heaven  into  which  it 
was  just  bursting,  as  only  its  poor  opaque  shell  expanded 
a  few  feet  in  circumference !  As  foolish  as  the  poor 
children  of  the  Polar  world  fashioning  the  toys  of  their 
holidays,  in  the  likeness  of  sledge,  and  boat,  and  walrus- 
spear,  the  very  implements  of  their  fathers'  forlorn  and 
perilous  labor ! 

Oh,  beware,  how,  in  regard  of  the  all-glorious  future, 
you  make  your  thoughts   God's  thoughts!     Gates   of 


GOD'S    THOUGHTS.  19 

pearl,  and  rivers  of  bright  water,  and  flowers  of  won- 
drous hue,  and  skies  of  cloudless  splendor.  Yea,  reunited 
families  dwelling  in  glorious  mansions,  and  the  flash  of 
angel-plumes,  and  the  swell  of  angel  voices.  Why,  all 
these  have  been  known  and  experienced  in  mortal  lives! 
They  are  all  "  of  the  earth,  earthy  !"  They  are  only 
the  soiled  and  faded  drapery  of  God's  trampled  foot- 
stool !  And  beware  how  you  think  to  lift  so  coarse  a 
foot-cloth,  and  spread  it  as  a  true  regalia  of  purple  and 
ermine  over  the  blaze  of  God's  throne ! 

Beware  how  you  work  those  poor  earthly  colors  on  the 
eternal  canvas — or  model  the  many  mansions  of  God's 
House  after  a  human  architecture  !  Heaven,  as  you  are 
wont  think  of  it,  is  only  the  imperfect  dream  of  a  poor 
finite  imagination.  Hut  yonder  heaven  %tnto  which  we 
aspire,  is  the  realization  of  the  loftiest  conception  of  the 
imagination  of  God. 

"  And  as  the  heavens  are  higher  than  the  earth,  so 
are  my  thoughts  higher  than  your  thoughts,  saith  the 
Lord:' 


THE  ONE   IDEA. 


"  This  one  tiling  I  do." — Philippians,  iii.  1?.. 

This  was  Paul's  great  motto.  He  was  a  man  of 
one  idea ;  one  master-passion  moved  upon  all  his  life- 
springs  ;  one  great  object  he  cared  for ;  one  great  thing- 
he  did.  And  though  the  phrase  has  fallen  into  dis- 
repute through  misapplication,  yet  the  history  of  Paul 
teaches  that  no  man's  mind  is  large  enough  to  entertain 
more  than  one  idea;  and  no  man's  life  long  enough  to 
realize  more  than  one  idea. 

"We  shall  see  presently  that  there  are,  in  certain  minds, 
notions  often  classified  under  the  title  of  "The  One 
Idea,"  which  have  really  no  right  to  it.  They  are  at 
the  most  only  imperfect  and  fragmentary  notions  or 
thoughts,  half  ideas,  or  quarter  ideas,  and  so  not  large 
enough  to  fill  a  man's  whole  soul ;  and  the  mind  which 
fastens  on  such  a  mutilated  idea,  either  finds  itself,  in 
its  expansion,  half-empty,  or  else,  collapsing  to  embrace 
it,  becomes  a  very  little  soul.  But  Paul's  experience 
teaches  us,  that  one  unmutilated  and  entire  idea,  is  as 
much  as  a  man  can  entertain  in  his  soul,  or  actualize  in 
his  lifetime. 

Nor  herein  was  Paul's  experience  anomalous.  Such 
has  been  the  experience  as  well  of  all  truly  efficient 
men.     None  of  them  ever  entertained  more  than  one 


THE    ONE    IDEA.  21 

great  aim  or  purpose  of  being.  All  truly  good  and 
great  men,  in  these  sacred  records,  belong  to  the  same 
class. 

Noah  was  a  man  of  one  idea.  His  idea  was  an  ark ! 
And  though  he  did  other  things,  took  care  of  his  house- 
hold, educated  his  children,  mingled  in  antediluvian 
society,  and  took  part  in  antediluvian  politics,  yet  the 
one  great  thought  moving  as  a  glorious  dream  through 
all  his  chambers  of  imagery,  was  something  that  would 
float  upon  stormy  and  shoreless  seas!  And  this  one 
thing  he  did — he  built. 

Abraham  was  of  this  same  class.  His  one  idea  was  a 
city  !  He  too  did  other  things  ;  he  trained  his  servants  ; 
he  commanded  his  household  after  him ;  he  was  a  kind 
father,  a  faithful  friend ;  a  princely  old  patriarch  in  all 
lands  wherein  he  sojourned.  But  amid  his  fairest 
di-eams  by  the  ancestral  waters,  a  great  voice  out  of 
heaven  spake  to  him  of  "  a  city  which  had  foundations 
builded  by  God."  And  behold!  ever  afterward  it 
was  haunting  his  soul ;  a  vision  of  unearthly  splendor ; 
and  his  eye  was  ever  uplifted  to  the  firmament,  as  if 
in  its  far  depths  he  could  catch  the  flash  of  glorious 
pinnacles.  Of  one  great  thing  he  thought — toward  one 
great  thing  he  journeyed.  UA  city  which  had  founda- 
tions, whose  builder  was  God?  And  in  this  purpose  we 
perceive  only  an  illustration  of  the  truth,  that  as  the  true 
primitive  man  was  made  in  God's  image,  so  the  truly 
regenerate  man  resumes  that  imao-e.  For  in  all  this 
man  becomes  Godlike.  The  divine  nature  is  of  the 
same  type  of  being.  It  lives  and  acts  in  realization 
of  one  great  idea,  love !  love  !  Differing,  indeed,  in 
mode   and   manifestation,   like   the   Theophany   of   the 


22  THE    ORE    IDEA. 

Exodus,  sometimes  an  overshadowing  gloom,  sometimes 
a  surpassing  glory.  Yet  ever,  amid  the  immensity 
and  multiplicity  of  its  operations,  from  the  enamel  of  a 
flower  and  the  feathering  of  an  insect's  wing  to  the 
pomp  of  the  starry  heavens  and  the  soaring  wing  of 
the  archangel,  making  the  truth  manifest  that  benev- 
olence is  the  very  essence  of  the  Infinite — that  omnip- 
otence is  only  almighty  love,  omniscience  only  all- 
wise  love,  and  omnipresence  only  an  immense  love — 
that  God  lives,  and  operates,  and  governs,  only  to 
love. 

Nor  of  regenerated  men  only  is  the  thought  true — 
of  all  men  who  retain  amid  their  moral  ruins  some 
lines  of  the  mutilated  divine  image — is  this  a  char- 
acteristic. A  singleness  of  aim  and  effort  ever  hath 
been — ever  will  be — the  secret  of  all  noble  human 
accomplishment.  Napoleon  was  the  most  efficient  man 
of  his  own  time,  yea,  of  all  time;  not  because  gifted 
above  his  fellows,  either  physically  or  intellectually, 
but  because  universal  empire  was  his  single  aim — he 
lived  only  to  conquer !  Demosthenes  was  the  prince 
of  all  earth's  orators,  not  because  God  gave  him  a 
splendid  voice,  and  exquisite  grace  of  motion,  but 
because  eloquence  was  his  one  idea.  He  lived  only 
to  sweep,  as  with  a  roused  tempest,  over  all  the  iEolian 
sympathies  of  the  human  heart.  Newton  was  the  king 
of  astronomers,  not  because  his  eye  was  keener  as  it 
scanned  the  heavens,  nor  because  God  gave  him  mighty 
wings  to  sweep  through  the  empyrean,  but  because, 
with  the  power  of  an  omnipresent  dream,  the  constella- 
tions of  heaven  were  flashing  on  his  soul !  The  stars 
were  in  his  heart.     His  life  was  in  the  stars.     So  is  it 


TEE    ONE    IDEA.  23 

ever:  singleness  of  aim,  oneness  of  effort — the  gather- 
ing of  thought,  feeling,  heart,  soul,  life  into  one  intense 
absorbing  passion — is  the  secret  of  all  greatness.  And 
no  wonder  that  Paul  was  the  very  chief  of  the  apostles, 
so  that  the  earth  shook  at  his  tread,  as  when  a  giant 
goes  on  pilgrimage;  not  because  he  had  read  Grecian 
lore,  in  Cilician  schools,  and  mastered  the  Hebrew  law 
at  Gamaliel's  feet,  but  because,  with  his  heart  all  afire 
within  him,  and  his  eye,  as  the  eagle's  on  the  sun, 
fixed  on  one  sublime  purpose — in  that  one  thing  he 
gloried — to  that  one  thing  he  tended.  And  the  secret 
of  his  apostolic  power  and  evangelical  achievement  was 
in  the  text's  motto  and  watchword,  "  This  one  thing 
I  do." 

Paul — we  repeat — was  greatly  efficient  just  because  he 
was  pre-eminently  a  man  of  one  idea.  But  then,  be  it  ob- 
served, his  was  a  whole  one  !  and  not  a  poor  fragment  of  a 
thought.  We  have  seen  that  there  are  men,  termed  men 
"  of  one  idea,"  who  have  no  claim  to  the  title.  In  popular 
language — an  idea  is  the  image,  or  form,  of  a  thing  in  the 
mind.  A  complete  idea  must  therefore  be  the  image  of  a 
whole  thing,  and  not  merely  of  one  of  its  parts.  And  so 
we  term  those  men,  only  men  of  half  an  idea — who  in  ar- 
chitecture think  only  of  the  house's  foundation — or  in 
education  care  for  only  one  class  of  mental  faculties — or 
in  politics  labor  for  only  one  state,  or  section,  or  color,  in 
a  great  nation — or  in  theology  look  ever  only  on  one  as- 
pect of  a  many-sided  truth,  as  the  Antinomiau  seeing 
only  God's  sovereignty  in  salvation,  or  the  Arminian  see- 
ing only  man's  free-agency,  both  practically  separating 
faith  and  good  works  as  they  lie  indissolubly  wedded  in 
the  Divine    thought — or   in   practical  morality   regard 


24  TEE    ONE    IDEA. 

some  one  of  the  great  sisterhood  of  human  virtues  as 
alone  important,  so  that  they  become  intemperate  in  their 
advocacy  of  temperance,  and  licentious  in  their  conflicts 
with  impurity,  or  Sabbath-breaking  in  their  efforts  to 
sanctify  the  Sabbath. 

All  such  men's  notions  of  things  are  mutilations,  and 
therefore  not  ideas  at  all,  but  only  fragments  of  ideas  ; 
and  as  half  an  idea  is  too  small  to  fill  a  whole  heart  and 
soul,  they  roll  about  in  the  mental  vacuity,  making  the 
poor  man  as  noisy  as  a  child's  rattle,  and  for  the  sarne 
reason — his  mind  is  not  half  full ! 

But  differing  from  all  such  men,  Paul's  one  idea  was  a 
complete  one,  entire  in  all  its  parts,  symmetrical  in  its 
proportions. 

Let  us  consider  it  carefully  that  we  may  learn  what  it 
was. 

"This  one  thing  I  do,  forgetting  the  things  that  are  be- 
hind and  reaching  forth  unto  the  things  that  are  before, 
I  press  toward  the  mark  for  the  prize  of  the  high  calling 
of  God  in  Christ  Jesusy 

He  uses  here  his  favorite  figure  of  the  old  race-course. 
Before  his  faith-lit  eye  was  flashing,  at  life's  far  goal, 
heaven's  unfading  crown  of  righteousness,  and  like  the 
Grecian  athlete,  night  and  day,  might  and  main,  body 
and  soul,  he  strove  and  struggled  onward  and  upward. 
And  the  end  of  all  his  efforts,  and  the  aim  of  all  his 
stragglings,  was  progress  in  holiness,  progress  toward 
heaven  !  This  one  thing  he  did,  he  pressed  toward 
glory! 

Other  things  indeed  he  did,  and  did  earnestly  and 
nobly.  But  then  they  were  all  subordinate  things,  or 
rather  they  were  only  parts  of  this  same  great  one  thing  \ 


THE    ONE    IDEA.  25 

Paul  made  tents,  and  I  doubt  not  was  the  most  indus- 
trious and  faithful  artisan  in  Corinth,  and  that  his  work- 
manship was  in  great  demand  in  the  Corinthian  market- 
places. For  his  religion  was  the  great  inspiration  of  his 
life,  passing  beyond  sanctuaries  and  Sabbaths,  and  per- 
vading the  whole  economy  of  the  secular  and  the  social, 
rendering  him  not  merely  a  flaming  apostle,  but  in  every 
possible  relation  of  life  an  earnest  and  honest  man. 
Paul  wrought  for  his  daily  bread  in  the  workshop  of 
Aquila.  But  his  craft  was  part  of  his  Christianity.  "Ho- 
liness to  the  Lord"  was  inscribed  on  the  tent-shop! 
"  These  are  Christ's  "  was  written  on  every  tool  of  his 
bench,  and  the  cord,  and  the  canvas.  And  when  most 
busy  at  his  work  he  was  still  doing  his  one  thing,  adding 
gems  to  his  crown  of  righteousness — pressing  toward 
heaven  ! 

Paid,  too,  preached  the  Gospel ;  and  never  since  hath 
human  voice  been  lifted  in  such  resistless  eloquence  to 
save  imperiled  souls.  But  then  his  pulpit,  like  his  tent- 
shop,  was  in  hi3  own  way  to  glory.  He  preached  as  he 
ran,  like  Bunyan's  Pilgrim,  his  back  to  the  multitude,  his 
face  toward  heaven.  The  Gospel  he  preached  was  a  Gos- 
pel he  practiced.  The  cross  he  gloried  in  was  a  cross  he 
carried.  And  amid  all  his  unwearying  toil  for  others,  his 
most  earnest  care  was  "  to  keep  his  own  body  under,  that 
he  himself  shoidd  not  be  at  last  a  castaway  /"  Heaven — 
heaven — as  a  great  city  of  radiant  pinnacles,  seemed  ever 
the  gi-eat  reality  of  his  being,  and,  as  he  cast  away  every 
hinderance,  and  broke  from  every  entanglement,  and 
pressed  untiringly  on  to  its  enrapturing  glories,  the  utter- 
ance alike  of  his  lip  and  his  life  was,  "  This  one  thing  I  do." 

But,  as  recorded  in  the  context,  even  in  his  religious 

2 


26  THE    ONE    IDEA. 

life  lie  seems  to  have  been  doing  several  things.  There- 
fore, let  us  consider  how  they  were  only  essential  parts 
of  this  one  thing. 

I.  And  first,  Paul  cherished  in  his  heart  a  constant 
dissatisfaction  with  his  present  spiritual  attainment. 
These  are  his  words :  "JBrethren,  I  count  not  myself 
to  have  apprehended.''''  Here,  in  his  own  behalf,  is  a  posi- 
tive disclaimer  of  all  Christian  perfection.  High  as  seems 
to  us  his  spiritual  stature,  he  repeatedly  assures  us  that 
to  himself  he  seemed  almost  the  least  of  saints — the 
chief  of  sinners.  And  here  he  expresses  profound  dis- 
satisfaction with  his  gracious  attainments,  and  here  we 
find  the  great  secret  of  his  rapid  Christian  progress. 
Yea,  and  here  we  find  the  secret  of  all  progress,  either 
sacred  or  secular.  Dissatisfaction  is  always  the  first 
step  in  improvement.  Dissatisfied  with  the  pen,  man  in- 
vented the  printing-press.  Dissatisfied  with  the  chariot, 
man  careers  on  the  locomotive.  Dissatisfied  with  the 
velocity  even  of  steam,  man  links  his  thoughts  to  God's 
thunderbolts !  This,  in  regard  of  all  things,  is  the  true 
inspiration.  A  being  fully  contented  with  present  at- 
tainments, with  no  aspirations  unto  things  above  and 
beyond  him,  should  be  either  a  god  or  an  idiot !  Heav- 
en's pity  on  the  poor  soul  on  this  earth  all  restful  and 
satisfied  !  Genius — high  genius — the  most  Godlike  of  in- 
tellectual gifts,  is  only  this  "restless  creative  agony,  an 
impulse  driving  the  spirit  to  beat  its  wings  like  an  impris- 
oned eagle,  till  there  be  blood  on  the  plumes  and  the 
wires  of  the  prison-house  !  forcing  the  yearning  heart 
abroad,  like  an  unblessed  spirit,  away  from  the  actual 
in  search  of  the  possible ;  to  dig  in  every  desert  for  a 
living  spring ;  to  climb  every  mountain-top  for  a  farther 


THE    ONE    IDEA.  27 

look  into  heaven.  Csesar  was  the  very  demi-god  of  his 
generation,  because  a  possessed  world  could  not  satisfy 
him.  Paul  was  the  very  chief  of  the  apostles,  because, 
sick  of  all  present  attainments,  he  "  counted  liimself  not 
to  have  apprehended."    Meanwhile, 

II.  Paul  fastened  his  eye  on  farther  and  loftier  Chris- 
tian states  and  attainments,  "  forgetting  the  things  that 
are  behind,  and  reaching  forth  unto  the  tilings  that  are 
before  /" 

There  are  men,  alas,  how  many  !  in  their  self-examina- 
tions, always  either  reviewing  the  past,  or  scrutinizing 
the  present,  of  their  gracious  experience.  Ask  them  for 
the  evidences  of  regeneration,  and  they  tell  you  how, 
years  ago,  they  found  peace  in  believing,  or  that  even 
now  they  feel  happy  in  Christ.  But  Paul's  eye  and 
thought  fastened  neither  on  the  things  behind,  nor  the 
things  around  him.  Not  of  the  glorious  light  in  the  way 
to  Damascus,  not  of  the  manifold  labors  of  his  apostle- 
ship,  does  he  speak.  Far  away,  at  the  end  of  his  course, 
stood  the  great  "  Finisher  of  his  faith,"  and  to  him  alone 
he  looked.  Far  away  from  his  low  stand-point  stretched, 
in  ever-ascending  grandeur,  peak  upon  peak,  the  mountain 
ranges  of  godliness,  and  he  reached  forward,  like  an  iron- 
shod  pilgrim,  all  eager  to  climb.  And  herein  was  an- 
other secret  of  his  progress,  and  of  all  progress.  This 
yearning  ambition  within  the  soul  of  man,  which,  goad- 
ing him  away  from  all  heights  of  present  attainment, 
fastens  the  eye  on  vaster  acquisitions  of  knowledge, 
nobler  forms  of  love,  and  hope,  and  joy,  and  faith — filling 
the  whole  future  with  a  perspective  of  grander  prizes  to 
be  struggled  for,  and  filling  the  soul,  which  no  present 
gladness  can  satisfy,  with  those  restless  and  irrepressible 


28  THE    ONE    IDEA. 

desires  for  the  glories  that  are  far  away  and  beyond 
it. 

Paul  was  dissatisfied  with  the  present,  and  intensely 
ambitions  for  great  things  in  the  future.     Meanwhile, 

III.  His  ambition  was  pre-eminently  practical.  These 
gracious  desires  became  the  inspiration  of  his  life.  Reli- 
gion in  him  was  no  frame  and  feeling  of  ecstasy  and  rap- 
ture. It  was  sinewed  with  steel — sandaled  with  iron.  The 
New  Jerusalem,  with  its  flashing  pinnacles,  was  no  city 
in  the  clouds,  which  a  child  sees  at  sunset  in  the  purpling 
west,  and  lies  down  to  dream  about.  It  was  a  city  with 
foundations,  coming  out  to  the  eye  of  faith  at  the  termi- 
nus of  his  life-walk;  and  as  its  ever-haunting  splendors  fell 
round  him,  he  tightened  the  girdle  of  his  loins,  the  latchet 
of  his  sandals,  and,  like  an  earnest  and  strong  man,  pressed 
toward  the  goal.  "  I  press — I  press  toward  the  mark  for 
the  prize  of  the  high  calling  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus." 
"  This  one  thing  I  do."  Relying  entirely  on  Christ,  as 
he  did,  for  salvation,  yet  he  felt  that  he  had  for  himself 
a  great  work  to  do  in  this  progress  toward  glory.  It 
was  a  practical  progress  in  every  Christian  grace ;  and 
those  graces,  miraculously  implanted  at  regeneration, 
follow  afterward  the  law  of  all  life,  and  thrive  only  with 
culture.  While  God's  power  wrought  inwardly  "to  will 
and  to  do,"  his  own  power  must  work  outwardly,  "  with 
fear  and  trembling."  Christ  Jesus  would  no  more  relieve 
him  of  all  spiritual  than  of  all  secular  labor ;  no  more 
run  the  Christian  race  for  him  than  make  tents  for  him. 
So  Paul  felt :  "  I — I  press  toward  the  prize  of  the  high 
calling  in  Christ."     "This  one  thing  I  do  !" 

The  accomplishment  of  salvation  was  a  work — yea, 
was  his  work.     His  theory  of  religion  was  not  that  of  a 


THE    ONE    IDEA.  29 

glad  voyage  over  tranquil  waters,  clown  stream  and  rest- 
ful, lulled  by  murmuring  wind  and  wave,  until,  anchored 
for  eternity,  lie  should  go  ashore  in  glory  !  To  him  it 
seemed  a  race-course,  in  which  every  step  of  progress 
must  be  a  labor — the  limb  strained,  the  eye  steadfast. 
Though  resting,  as  the  everlasting  rock  of  his  hope,  on 
the  truth  of  God's  sovereignty,  yet  he  would  trust  to  no 
Divine  purpose  to  bring  him  at  last,  safely  sleeping,  to 
glory.  The  wearer  of  the  crown  must  be  winner  of  the 
crown.  The  racer  who  triumphed  must  be  the  racer 
who  toiled.  To  attain  to  the  sanctified  state  passively, 
by  meditations  and  raptures,  or  even  by  a  miraculous  de- 
struction of  sin  in  the  members,  in  answer  to  prayer !  to 
attain  to  entire  sanctitication,  save  by  bringing  the  body 
under  in  a  life  of  active  labor  for  Christ — a  labor  life- 
long and  intense  as  the  racer's  struggling  toward  the 
goal !  Why,  Paul  would  as  soon  have  expected  to  have 
ascended  in  a  silken  balloon  to  the  radiant  heights  of 
the  City  of  Holiness  !  Christian  life  to  him  was  a  toil — 
the  concentration  of  all  the  powers  of  his  ardent  and 
regenerated  nature  in  one  mighty  struggle ;  and  quiver- 
ing lip,  and  strained  limb,  and  steadfast  and  earnest  life, 
gave  utterance  to  the  same  motto  and  watch-word  of  his 
life — "This  one  tiling  I  do!" 

And  thus  all  the  several  things  Paul  is  said  to  do  in  the 
context,  are  but  essential  parts  of  the  same  great  "  one 
thing  " — "  Toward  the  prize  of  the  high  calling  of  God 
he  pressed,"  i.  <?.,  "He  made  progress  toward  heaven!'''' 

And  a  wise  man  he  was,  surely,  in  this  choice  of  the 
great  end  of  his  being.  Many  another  thing  he  might 
have  done  nobly.  In  him  were  combined,  in  wonderful 
strength,  the  mental  and  moral  qualities  fitting  man  for 


30  TEE    ONE    IDEA. 

great  deeds.  His  was  the  temperament  which  produces 
heroes.  His,  intellectually,  the  strong  logical  faculty, 
and  the  splendid  imagination  characterizing  great  orators. 
His,  every  way,  the  resistless,  indomitable  energy,  render- 
ing human  life  a  success.  He  might  have  rivaled  De- 
mosthenes in  the  pomp  of  his  eloquence  !  He  might  have 
flung  abroad  banners  of  battle  glorious  as  Caesar's ! 
But  bring  him  back  now  from  the  skies,  in  the  glory  of 
his  white  robe,  and  sceptre,  and  diadem,  and  bid  him  de- 
clare frankly  whether  it  was  done  well  and  wisely,  this 
doing  but  one  thing  ! 

Ah  me !  The  tongue  of  the  old  orator  is  silent,  and 
the  laurels  of  the  great  conqueror  are  withered  and  dead. 
But  brightening  ever  in  its  glory  as  eternity  wears  on, 
new  laurels  in  the  chaplet,  new  gems  in  the  crown,  new 
anthems  to  be  sung,  new  heights  to  be  soared — the  prize 
of  that  high  calling  in  Christ  Jesus  flashes  lustrously 
still ! 

Wise  ? — wise  ?  Yes,  he  was  wise.  He  went  forth  like 
an  old  athlete  to  the  great  race-course  for  glory,  and  for  a 
while,  calmly  watching  the  girded  runners,  he  counted  the 
cost  and  the  toil.  And  then  did  this  poor  world  do  its 
best  to  beguile  him  from  the  struggle.  Pleasure  smiled 
on  him  in  her  wondrous  beauty,  and  whispered  her  incan- 
tations. And  Honor  waved  an  enchanter's  wand,  and  to 
his  wrapt  eye  rose  a  far  perspective  of  unbounded  earthly 
splendor.  And  Riches,  and  Power,  and  the  Lusts  of  the 
flesh,  and  the  Pride  of  life,  wrought  upon  his  heart  with 
spells  almost  omnipotent.  Yes;' and  then  in  the  con- 
trast, such  labors,  and  sacrifices,  and  sufferings,  even 
unto  death,  were  to  be  endured  for  the  Master.  And 
the  narrow  way  upward  to  the  skies  looked  so  cold,  and 


TEE     ONE    IDEA.  31 

thorny,  and  desolate,  that,  it  may  be,  for  a  little  moment, 
the  heart  of  the  persecutor  faltered  ere  he  tightened  the 
girdle  of  his  garment  and  sprang  toward  the  goal !  But 
it  was  only  for  a  moment !  Right  out  from  the  blue 
heavens,  as  they  bent  over  the  far  heights  of  the  course, 
flashed  to  his  eye  of  faith  the  light  from  the  towers  of 
the  City  of  Holiness,  and  down  from  their  shining  seats 
stole  the  voices,  so  soft,  of  that  "  great  cloud  of  witnesses." 
And  it  was  enough !  As  cords  from  the  limbs  of  the 
roused  Samson,  the  poor  entanglements  of  earth  fell  from 
his  spirit.  Away !  away  he  is  bounding !  Make  way 
for  him,  ye  weaker  runners !  A  giant  hath  sprung  to 
the  race,  and  is  pressing  toward  glory !  And  will  he 
falter  now  on  the  course  ?  Can  the  world  tempt  him  to 
falter  ?  Gold,  pleasure,  honor — can  they  hinder  his  swift 
feet  ?  Paul  pause  !  Paul  falter !  With  Heaven  open- 
ing on  his  full  soul,  and  Death  and  Hell  following  hard 
after,  and  the  cloud  of  witnesses  surrounding,  and  the 
ground  under  his  feet  sounding  hollow,  and  stupendous 
visions  of  eternal  gloom  and  eternal  glory  breaking 
round  him,  will  he  pause  for  mortal  toys? 

Ah,  no,  no  !  As  well  tempt  an  angel  from  his  throne 
with  a  babe's  poor  plaything.  "  This  one  thing  only  he 
would  do  /" 

And  methought  I  saw  him  at  last,  as  the  race  was 
ended  and  the  crown  was  won.  Like  the  ano-el  standing: 
in  the  sun,  he  stood  colossal  in  outline  at  the  radiant 
goal !  There  was  a  halo  round  his  head,  and  uncreated 
glories  fell  on  him  as  a  garment !  Then  there  seemed  a 
flash,  as  of  gates  of  pearl  moving  to  soft  music,  and  the 
outburst  of  seraphic  voices  in  joyous  welcome !  And, 
alas  for  me !  I  felt  homesick  for  glory  as  I  saw  him  no 


32  THE    ONE    IDEA. 

more.      His    race    for    glory   ended !      JIls   one   tiling 
done  ! 

Now,  of  all  this  simple  discourse,  the  one  practical 
lesson  is  to  take  Paul  for  our  model.  We,  too,  have  but 
one  thing  to  do  on  this  earth — to  get  ready  for  heaven. 
In  every  scene  and  sphere  of  the  secular  and  social,  "  to 
be  diligent  in  business,  fervent  in  spirit,  serving  the 
Lord."  And  spite  of  all  our  fond  notions,  there  is  no 
easier  or  other  way  than  Paul's  of  progress  in  sanctifica- 
tion ;  and  yet  how  little  are  we  like  him.  Alas,  my 
brethren,  if  we  toiled  as  listlessly  for  this  world  as  for 
heaven,  the  merchant  would  become  bankrupt  on  ex- 
change, and  the  artisan  a  beggar  by  the  wayside.  A 
child,  weaving  for  himself  a  chaplet  of  flowers,  toils  in 
their  gathering  more  earnestly  than  Ave  in  setting  stars 
in  our  crown  of  rejoicing.  And  do  you  think  that  God, 
whose  law  of  compensation  is  to  make  every  good  thing 
the  meed  of  earnest  toil  and  a  steadfast  purpose,  so  that 
the  bee  and  the  ant  must  starve  if  they  work  not, — do 
you  think  that  God,  who  brought  prophets  and  apostles 
to  heaven  through  struggles  and  conflicts,  and  a  great 
fight  of  afflictions,  will  lower  down  the  standard  in  our 
behalf,  and  award  us  a  crown  of  glory  if  we  strain  not 
toward  the  goal  ?  Why,  look  ye  ! — Far  away  over  the 
desert,  up  where  the  mountains  are  piercing  the  skies, 
shine  the  palaces  of  immortality !  And  if  we  attain  to 
them  in  triumph  at  all,  these  deserts  must  be  traversed, 
these  stormy  waters  crossed,  these  mountains  ascended  ! 
"  This  high  calling  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus  "  is  not  unto 
passive  and  indolent  raptures,  but  unto  earnest  warfare 
and  work.  A  Christian  is  a  "servant"  and  he  must 
labor;  a  "pilgrim"   and  he  must  journey;  a  " soldier ," 


THE    ONE    IDEA.  33 

and  he  must  do  battle;  a  "racer"  for  glory,  and  he 
must  press  toward  the  goal.  "  This  one  thing  ice  must 
do." 

And  I  call  on  you  and  on  myself,  as  immortal  spirits, 
girt  about  for  the  struggle,  under  whose  feet  the  earth  is 
hollow  with  sepulchres — around  whom,  filling  all  the 
sky,  press  unseen  this  great  cloud  of  witnesses  ;  in  whose 
far  perspective  are  magnificent  things  which  would 
kindle,  as  a  guerdon,  all  the  energies  of  the  archangel. 
Knowing,  as  I  do,  how  heaven  is  attained  only  by 
struggling,  and  how,  amid  the  different  rewards  of 
eternity,  the  loftiest  are  only  unto  the  most  earnest, 
and  how  God  hath  filled  the  human  soul  with  these 
boundless  and  irrepressible  desires,  just  that  it  might 
fix  heart  and  eye  on  the  loftiest  of  the  thrones,  the 
brightest  of  the  diadems — ay,  and  knowing,  too,  how 
the  season  of  the  great  life-work  is  growing  short, 
the  sands  of  the  great  hour-glass  falling  through,  the 
shadows  leno;thenin<x,  the  sun  o-oino-  down,  the  night — 
the  night  coming  ! — knowing  this,  I  call  on  you  and  on 
myself  to  gird  up  the  loins  and  tighten  the  sandal,  "  and 
press  toicard  the  mark  for  the  prize  of  the  high  calling 
of  God  r 

And  unto  you,  oh,  ye  impenitent  and  ungodly  men, 
what  shall  I  say  ?  Alas,  this  one  thing  which  gathers 
into  itself  all  the  great  interests  of  time  and  eternity — 
a  thing  too  immense  to  be  done  Avell  in  a  life-time — 
Paul's  grand  "one  thing" — ye  have  not  yet  begun  to 
do.  Ye  will  not  even  think  about  doing.  Your  lan- 
guage to  your  preacher  is — "  Oh,  do  not  talk  about  this 
thing  !  Do  not  speak  about  Death,  and  the  Judgment, 
and  Eternity  !     By  and  by,  when  life  hath  lost  all  its 

2* 


34  THE    ONE    IDEA. 

sparkle,  and  pleasure  palls  upon  the  senses,  and  the 
world  fades  away  as  a  fair  vision,  then  we  mean  to  be 
Christians."  Alas,  foolish  reasoners  !  Where  is  eternity? 
afar  off?  long  years  away  in  your  history?  Oh,  no  ! 
Eternity  is  close  to  you — all  around  you — just  behind 
this  thin  veil  of  things  visible,  already  lifting,  dissolving. 
Be  a  Christian  by  and  by !  Alas,  foolish  reasoner ! 
What  is  it  to  be  a  Christian  ?  Is  it  to  weep  a  tear — 
experience  a  remorse — breathe  a  prayer  on  a  death-bed  ? 
Oh,  no,  no  !  To  be  a  Christian  is  to  run  a  great  race — to 
fight  a  mighty  battle.  And  how  can  a  man  fight  well 
when  his  right  arm  is  palsied,  and  his  eye  dim  in  death  ? 
And  who  ever  heard  of  an  athlete  coming  forth  from  a 
dying  chamber,  and  wrapt  in  a  shroud,  that  he  might 
strive  for  the  mastery  ?  Oh,  no  !  It  requires  all  the 
best  strength  of  the  bravest  manhood  to  do  well  Paul's 
one  thing!  And  so,  as  one  that  loves  your  souls,  I  plead 
that  here  and  now  ye  begin  this  great  life-work.  Know- 
ing how  this  one  thing  is  a  good  thing,  and  a  blessed, 
and  a  needful,  how  much  fairer  will  seem  even  this 
mortal  life,  if  you  have  God  for  your  father.  And  how 
much,  when  the  shadows  are  upon  all  its  sunshine,  every 
cloud  will  be  haloed  with  heavenly  light  in  the  smile  of 
the  Comforter!  and  how  even  the  cold  waters  of  death 
will  seem  bright  as  the  sea  of  glass  mingled  with  fire,  if 
the  Divine  Son  come  walking  the  billows !  and  how, 
beyond  it,  heaven  will  fling  open  its  shining  gate,  and 
you  enter  "  to  that  glory,  that  weight  of  glory,  that  far 
more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory." 

And  that  even  then  ye  shall  have  but  begun  the 
higher  life  of  the  immortal ;  that  when  eternal  ages 
have  rolled  on  their  great  course,  still  "  things  to  come  " 


THE    ONE    IDEA.  35 

will  be  yours — still  new  treasures  of  knowledge,  and 
love,  and  joy,  opening  in  your  experience — new  anthems 
to  be  sung — new  heights  to  be  soared — tower  above 
tower — battlement  above  battlement — throne  above 
throne — still  stretching  away  upward  under  that  glo- 
rious firmament,  till  lost  in  the  immensities  of  the  God- 
head !  Knowing  all  this,  I  plead  with  you,  that  for  one 
passing  hour  you  consider  your  immortality !  for  then  I 
know  that  with  this  poor  world  seeming  a  vapor,  and  life 
a  dream,  and  eternity  a  stupendous  reality — you,  too, 
will  gird  yourselves  for  this  life-work,  and  press  as  a 
giant  on  a  high  path,  with  these  apostolic  and  exalting 
words: — This  one  thing  I  do!    This  one  thing  I  do  ! 


PEEJUDICE. 


"  And  Nathaniel  said,  Can  any  good  thing  come  out  of  Nazareth  ? 
Philip  saith  unto  him,  Come  and  see." — Johk,  i.  46. 

The  conversation  here  recorded  occurred  at  the  begin- 
ning of  our  Lord's  ministry.  Philip,  a  disciple  of  John 
the  Baptist,  having  found  the  Christ,  in  the  fullness  of  his 
joy  would  lead  others  unto  him.  And  finding  Nathaniel, 
an  upright,  though  bigoted  Israelite,  thus  earnestly  ad- 
dressed him,  "  We  have  found  him  of  whom  Moses  in 
the  law  and  the  prophets  did  write,  Jesus  of  Nazareth 
the  son  of  Joseph."  But  in  reply,  the  prejudice  of  the 
Hebrew  was  painfully  manifest.  "  Of  Nazareth  do  you 
say  ?" — "  Can  any  good  thing  come  out  of  Nazareth  ?"  It 
is  difficult  to  determine  the  precise  point  of  the  question 
as  here  put  by  Nathaniel.  The  words  "  any  good  thing  " 
may  have  here  as  elsewhere  the  force  of  "  this  good 
thing,"  meaning  the  promised  Messiah,  the  "  sumrmim 
bonum  "  of  the  Jew.  And  if  so,  the  implied  objection  of 
the  question  lay  in  this — that  Bethlehem,  and  not  Naz- 
areth, was  to  be  the  birthplace  of  the  Christ.  And  this 
was  just  the  objection,  afterward  so  popular  among  the 
Jews :  "  Shall  the  Christ  come  out  of  Galilee.  Hath 
not  the  Scripture  said  that  he  cometh  of  the  seed  of 
David,  and  out  of  the  town  of  Bethlehem?"  But  as  the 
text  is  here  rendered,  the  objection  lay  in  this — that 
Nazareth,    a  town   of  lower   Galilee,  had  become   pro- 


PREJ  UDIGE.  37 

verbial  for  the  wickedness  of  its  inhabitants,  and  that 
therefore  no  good  man  could  be  supposed  to  come  out 
of  it. 

But,  for  the  practical  instruction  of  the  text,  it  matters 
not  which  of  these  meanings  be  received.  For  they 
alike  exhibit  the  evil  influence  of  prejudice  on  our  intel- 
lectual decisions. 

If  the  first  interpretation  be  taken,  then  the  power  of 
Nathaniel's  prejudice  showed  itself  in  his  logic.  He 
heard  Philip  call  Christ  a  Nazarene,  and  thei'efore 
rejected  him,  because  the  prophecy  was  that  Christ 
should  come  out  of  Bethlehem.  As  if  these  two  things 
were  incompatible ;  both  of  which  the  simplest  inquiry 
would  have  proved  true :  that  Christ  was  born  in 
Bethlehem,  and  dwelt  afterward  in  Nazareth. 

Or  if  the  last  interpretation  be  taken,  then  the  power 
of  the  prejudice  showed  itself  in  his  philosophy,  by 
an  unjust  generalization,  concluding  that  no  Nazarene 
could  be  good  because  some  Nazarenes  were  evil. 

We  say,  then,  this  question  of  Nathaniel  finely  illus- 
trates— the  direful  power  of  prejudice  /  And  the  imme- 
diate response  of  Philip  as  finely  exhibits — the  real 
remedy  for  prejudice. 

What  answer  does  he  give  to  this  bigot  of  Israel  ? 
Does  he  sit  down  to  reason  the  matter,  proving,  by  the 
terrible  record  of  Herod's  slaughter  of  the  innocents, 
that,  though  resident  in  Nazareth,  Christ  was  born  in 
Bethlehem  ?  Or  that  while  some  wicked  men  had  their 
home  in  Nazareth,  yet  its  very  existence  under  Roman 
rule  was  proof  that  many  good  citizens  dwelt  there? 
Does  he  pause  to  reason  with  him  at  all  ?  No,  indeed  ! 
At  once,  with  a  truer  love  and  finer  logic,  he  leads  him 


38  PREJUDICE. 

directly  to  the  presence  of  the  prejudged  Bethlehemite, 
saying — "  Come  and  see." 

Our  text,  then,  teaches  us  most  inrpressively — The  evil 
and  remedy  of  prejudice. 

Now,  had  we  the  limits  we  would  consider  these  in  a 
general  application. 

There  is  nothing  more  common,  and  few  things  worse, 
than  prejudice.  By  it  we  mean  any  opinion  formed  with- 
out sufficient  examination  of  facts  and  arguments.  And 
its  effect  upon  the  mind  is  like  that  of  colored  glass  upon 
the  eye,  arraying  objects  in  aspects  unnatural  and  mon- 
strous. Its  injurious  influence  pervades  all  spheres  of 
human  life — social,  civil,  religious.  Sometimes  it  judges 
a  whole  community  from  the  character  of  a  particular 
member,  and  sometimes  the  individual  from  the  character 
of  the  community.  The  man  is  of  a  party  whose  prin- 
ciples we  do  not  accept,  and  therefore  we  think  him 
unworthy  of  confidence.  Or  he  is  of  a  religious  sect 
which  we  deem  widely  erroneous,  and  therefore  we  re- 
gard him  ignorant  of  true  piety.  Or  some  individual  of 
the  party  has  proved  himself  unprincipled,  and  therefore 
we  pronounce  the  whole  party  dishonest.  Or  some  mem- 
ber of  a  religious  sect  has  been  manifestly  a  hypocrite, 
and  therefore  the  whole  sect  is  included  in  iniquity. 

Or  sometimes,  in  regard  of  systems,  or  individuals,  we 
judge  the  whole  character  from  a  single  act,  and  thus 
think  the  evil  good  because  there  may  be  one  good  thing 
in  it — and  the  good,  evil,  because  it  has  one  fault. 

And  surely  all  this  is  monstrous.  In  the  present  system 
of  things,  made  up  of  good  and  evil,  prejudgments  are 
almost  necessarily  wrong  judgments.  Prejudice  is  a 
great  injustice.     And  its  cure  is,  as  in  the  case  of  Na- 


PREJUDICE.  39 

thaniel,  a  thorough  examination  of  its  object — to  turn 
away  from  the  partial  logic,  and  "  come  and  see  " — come 
and  look  at  the  nation  in  all  its  great  emporiums  and 
refined  homes,  before,  from  one  coarse  and  brutal  tourist, 
you  pronounce  it  half-civilized  ! 

Come,  study  the  whole  platform,  and  all  the  measures 
of  the  party,  ere,  because  of  one  unprincipled  demagogue, 
you  judge  it  all  evil.  Come  look  at  the  religious  sect  in 
all  its  broad  charities,  and  earnest  faith  and  love,  ere, 
from  one  hypocritical  member,  you  pronounce  it  a  fanati- 
cism. Come,  examine  the  system  in  the  whole  reach  and 
play  of  its  complicate  machinery,  ere  from  a  single  disas- 
ter you  condemn  it  altogether. 

Come,  look  upon  the  erring  and  sinful  man,  in  all  the 
circumstances  of  his  temptation — yea,  come  look  on  him 
after  he  has  sinned, — follow  him  to  his  retirement.  See 
how  his  eyes  overflow,  how  his  heart  breaks,  as  he  casts 
himself  at  Jehovah's  feet,  asking  for  forgiveness.  Come 
and  see  all  this  ere,  from  one  sin  committed  under  some 
terrible  temptation,  you  turn  away  from  him  as  a  hypo- 
crite. 

Alas,  this  principle  of  prejudice  is  itself  a  most  terrible 
iniquity.  It  would  impel  us  to  cut  down  a  precious  vine, 
because  of  one  decayed  cluster — to  burn  up  the  whole 
earth,  because  some  wild  beasts  inhabit  it — to  annihilate 
all  God's  universe  in  its  goodness  and  glory,  because  there 
are  comets  amid  its  stars,  and  demons  among  its  spirits. 
And  its  remedy  is  simple  :  Go  examine  all  matters  of  pre- 
judice carefully,  ingenuously,  holding  opinion  in  abey- 
ance until  evidence  is  thoroughly  sifted,  and  whatever 
may  seem  a  priori  plausible  or  presumptive — "  Come 
and  see" — "  Como  and  see" 


40  PREJUDICE. 

But  it  is  not  with  such  generalities  we  arc  at  present 
concerned.  On  this  holy  day  and  in  this  holy  presence 
we  can  have  only  to  do  with  Prejudices  against  Christi- 
anity. Such  were  Nathaniel's,  and  his  case  affords  a  fine 
illustration  of  the  folly  and  wrong  of  all  such  prejudices. 
Consider  it  carefully. 

I.  If  you  suppose  his  objections  to  Christ  arose  from  the 
fact  that  the  Messiah  must  be  born  in  Bethlehem,  while 
Philip  says  this  man  had  come  from  Nazareth.  Then 
alas  for  his  logic  !  All  Jewish  prophecy  pointed  to  that 
day  as  the  time  for  Christ's  coming ;  so  that  all  men 
were  expecting  it.  Yea,  his  predicted  forerunner  had 
already  appeared  and  proclaimed  his  advent.  And 
there,  before  the  assembled  multitudes  that  went  out  unto 
John's  baptism,  a  great  voice  out  of  heaven,  and  a  de- 
scending Theophany  declared  him  to  be  the  expected 
Messiah.  Yea,  mortal  man  had  resorted  unto  him,  and 
as  they  heard  his  blessed  words,  and  saw  his  mighty 
works,  cast  themselves  adoringly  at  his  feet,  and  came 
forth  to  declare  in  confidence  and  rapture,  "  We  have 
found  him  of  whom  Moses  and  the  prophets  did  write." 
And  what  has  this  bigoted  Hebrew  to  oppose  to  all  this  ? 
Alas,  nothing  but  a  name  taken  from  a  temporary  dwell- 
ing-place !  "  Ah  !  a  Nazarene  did  you  say.  And  do  you 
think  this  great  good  can  come  out  of  Nazareth?" 
"  Shall  Christ  come  out  of  Galilee  ?  Cometh  he  not 
from  Bethlehem  of  David  ?" 

And  verily,  I  can  not  conceive  of  any  finer  parallel 
than  this  affords  to  the  present  popular  arguments 
against  Christianity. 

The  Bible  comes  to  man  with  an  amount  of  evidence 
as  great  as,  in  consistence  with  man's  probationary  state 


PREJUDICE.  41 

Divine  wisdom  can  give  it,  the  evidence  of  prophecy, 
the  evidence  of  miracles,  the  evidence  of  its  own  inherent 
divinity,  and  the  evidence  of  its  mighty  beneficent  in- 
fluences. 

Is  the  Bible  an  inspired  book?  Is  Christianity  a 
divine  revelation  ?  This  is  the  question.  And  hark  ! 
how  the  universe  lifts  all  voices  in  attestation.  "  Yes," 
cry  all  material  things.  For  so  wonderfully  are  nature  and 
revelation  in  analogy,  so  manifestly  counterparts  in  one 
great  system,  autographs  of  the  same  Divine  hand,  that 
a  child's  wisdom  accords  them  the  same  common  Au- 
thor !  "  Yes,"  cries  prophecy,  pointing  to  manifold  ever 
fulfilling  and  fulfilled  predictions !  "  Yes,"  cries  the 
yearning  soul  of  man,  "  for  its  blessed  truths  just  befit  my 
wants,  it  instructs  my  ignorance,  it  reveals  my  immor- 
tality, it  purifies  my  nature,  it  dries  my  tears,  it  woos 
me  from  the  trifles  of  time,  and  wings  me  for  the  grand- 
eurs of  eternity  !  "  Yes,"  cry  supernatural  voices.  And 
behold !  stilled  seas,  and  healed  diseases,  and  the  risen 
dead,  and  revealed  angels  appear  as  its  witnesses. 
"  Yes,"  cry  the  living  nations  of  the  earth,  quickened  by 
its  divine  power  into  life  and  liberty  and  joy,  "advan- 
taged every  way  by  the  possession  of  these  oracles  of 
God!"  "Yes,"  cry  all  higher  orders  of  immortal  life — 
angel  and  archangel,  principality  and  power,  singing 
morning  star  and  shouting  Son  of  God  !  "  Yes,"  cries 
God  the  Father,  so  guarding  it  by  his  Providence. 
"Yes,"  cries  God  the  Son,  so  magnifying  it  by  his 
miracles.  "Yes,"  cries  God  the  Holy  Ghost,  attending 
it  ever  in  omnipotence  from  conquering  to  conquer, 
until  verily  there  is  no  true  voice  in  God's  universe 
that  gives  not  glad  testimony  in  behalf  of  our  faith  ! 


42  PREJUDICE. 

And  unto  all  this,  what  says  the  Infidel  ?  Alas,  like 
Nathaniel  by  the  Jordan,  he  sets  it  all  aside  with  a  pitiful 
cavil !  He  gets  him  a  glass  and  looks  heavenward,  and 
finding  that  the  sun  and  stars  do  not  actually  revolve 
around  the  earth,  looks  wise,  and  says,  "Aha,  Moses 
does  not  say  any  thing  about  this  law  of  gravitation, 
surely  he  was  not  an  inspired  man  I1'  He  explores  the 
strata  of  the  earth,  and  finding  a  fish's  tail  in  the  rock 
or  a  monster's  vertebrae  in  sandstone,  lays  his  hand 
solemnly  on  his  heart,  saying,  "  Moses  speaks  not  of  these 
old  fossils.  Really  this  is  a  tremendous  fact  against  reve- 
lation." 

He  draws  a  line  from  ear  to  nostril  on  an  Ethiop's 
face,  or  pulls  a  lock  of  hair  from  an  Ethiop's  skull,  and, 
wise  with  all  ethnologic  gifts  and  grace,  cries,  "  Ah,  me, 
how  many  facts  there  are  against  revelation  !"  He  runs 
the  line  of  his  reason  into  the  sphere  of  immensity  and 
eternity ;  or  flings  himself  from  the  rock  of  faith  into 
the  infinite  ocean  of  Godhead,  and,  finding  himself 
slightly  beyond  his  depth,  struggles  back,  half-drowned 
but  still  buoyant  in  his  self-conceit,  and  because  the 
revelations  of  God  are  too  large  for  his  logic,  would 
settle  the  question  with  portentous  deliverance — "Verily 
I  can  not  comprehend  all  this,  and  my  arithmetic  and 
logic  are  both  against  revelation  !" 

Now,  before  God,  this  is  not  caricature.  It  is  a  fair 
representation  of  infidel  objections  to  Christianity.  And 
I  ask  if  Nathaniel's  against  Christ  had  a  greater  seeming 
of  prejudice?  "Can  the  Christ  come  out  of  Nazareth, 
cometh  he  not  of  the  seed  of  David,  and  out  of  the 
town  of  Bethlehem?"  Alas,  foolish  Israelite!  Why, 
there  is  not  a  matronly  mother  in  all  the  coasts  of  Beth- 


PREJUDICE.  43 

lehem,  that  can  not  lead  you  to  the  grave  of  her 
slaughtered  babe,  and  prove  to  you  by  death's  dread  tes- 
timony, that  your  objection  is  a  poor  cavil, — that  this 
very  Jesus  of  Nazareth  was  born  in  Bethlehem. 

And  we  say  as  well :  Alas,  foolish  sceptic  !  Why 
there  is  not  one  of  your  sophisms  against  Christianity 
which  has  not  been  answered  so  often  that  a  Sunday- 
school  child  can  meet  you  for  our  God,  and  shame  you, 
if  you  have  shame,  of  this  pitiful  dishonesty. 

But  you  do  not  need  argument.  Your  infidelity  is  of 
the  heart !  The  poor  creature  of  prejudice  !  You  cavil 
at  what  you  know  not !  What  you  want  is  an  honest 
acquaintance  with  the  Bible  and  Christianity  !  And  our 
only  answer  to  your  cavils  is  that  of  Philip  to  Nathaniel, 
"  Come  and  see  " — "  Come  and  see." 

Come  as  a  creature  of  a  glorious  nature,  feeling  within 
you  immortal  wants,  and  immortal  aspirations.  And 
putting  your  shoes  off,  and  bowing  down  your  proud 
head  and  heart,  stand  reverently  in  the  presence  of  this 
Book  from  eternity.  Come  and  see,  how  God's  provi- 
dence guards  it — how  God's  blessing  attends  it — how 
God's  great  thoughts  fill  it !  Come  ponder  its  stupen- 
dous truths,  beyond  the  imagination  of  angels !  Come 
adore  its  heavenly  purity,  and  share  its  heavenly  conso- 
lation !  Come  away  from  your  poor  school  of  unbelief 
into  fellowship  with  its  living  actors  !  Come  walk  with 
Abraham  as  he  walked  with  God !  Come  mount  with 
Elijah  in  his  chariot  of  fire !  Come  stand  with  Moses 
on  the  mount  of  God !  Come  sit  with  Isaiah  while 
he  sweeps  his  harp  !  Come  stand  with  John  in  his  desert 
isle  ! 

Come  enter  it  as  a  great  temple  of  truth.     See  how  it 


44  PREJUDICE. 

seems  a  divine  dwelling ! — a  house  not  made  with  hands. 
"What  a  new  world  of  softness,  brightness,  grandeur, 
bursts  upon  the  soul.  What  glorious  pillars  and  arches  of 
truth  !  What  pictures  of  heavenly  beauty  !  What  light 
of  ever-burning  lamps !  What  heavenly  fragrance ! 
What  seraphic  voices  in  the  enchanted  air  !  How  man 
stands  dwarfed,  humbled.  And  all  the  seen,  the  present, 
the  temporal,  seems  belittled,  passed  away,  forgotten  in 
the  symbolic  presence  of  eternity  and  God  ! 

Come  and  see  it  in  the  glory  of  its  influences, — in  the 
power  of  its  mission  over  a  ruined  world !  How  chains 
are  broken,  and  tears  dried,  and  wrongs  redressed,  and 
homes  made  beautiful,  and  hearts  made  pure,  and  intel- 
lect winged  for  its  highest  soarings,  and  the  whole  man 
lifted  from  degradation  to  his  true  dignity,  to  stand  in  the 
midst  of  a  redeemed  world,  in  the  glorious  freedom 
which  the  truth  makes  free — in  the  immortal  manhood 
which  the  truth  makes  man  !  Oh,  lay  aside  for  an  hour 
all  these  prejudices,  and  that  you  may  understand  the 
Bible  as  it  is — and  Christianity  as  it  is — and  feel  your 
whole  nature  purified,  and  elevated,  and  blessed  by  a 
heavenly  fellowship.  "  Come  and  see/" — "  Come  and 
see  !  " 

II.  But  we  have  said,  this  question  may  have  arisen, 
not  from  any  false  reasoning  in  regard  to  Christ's  birth, 
but  from  a  popular  notion  of  the  wickedness  of  the 
Nazarenes. 

Galilee,  lying  on  the  boundaries  of  Gentile  nations,  was 
partly  inhabited  by  pagans.  And  Nazareth,  situate  in 
a  secluded  valley  west  of  Mount  Tabor,  was  the  resort 
of  the  worthless  characters  of  the  province.  And, 
hence,  may  have  arisen   this   prejudice   against   Jesus. 


PREJUDICE.  45 

If  so,  alas  for  Nathaniel's  philosophy !  Yielding  with- 
out examination  to  the  power  of  popular  misrepresenta- 
tion, observe  the  pitiful  character  of  the  objection.  Pre- 
dicted by  prophecy,  approved  by  miracle,  announced 
by  a  heavenly  harbinger — yea,  even  by  the  descending 
Theophany,  and  a  divine  voice  from  heaven  positively 
declared  to  be  the  Messiah,  Christ  Jesus,  abode  by  the 
Jordan,  and  yet,  without  even  the  pretense  of  an  argu- 
ment, Nathaniel  would  reject  him  with  the  pitiful  sneer 
of  the  Jewish  rabbi.  "  Ah !  a  Nazarene,  do  you  say ; 
and  can  any  good  thing  come  out  of  Nazareth?"  And 
how  exactly  does  this  illustrate  the  treatment  Chris- 
tianity receives  from  the  multitude. 

We  have  seen  the  weakness  of  the  argument  of  the 
speculative  unbeliever.  But  in  this  case  of  the  practical 
rejecter  there  is  no  pretense  of  argument.  The  whole 
thing  rests  upon  an  irrational  prejudice. 

Christianity  comes  to  man  as  a  momentous  message 
from  eternity,  revealing  overwhelming  truths,  involving 
everlasting  interests.  It  tells  him  of  immortality,  of 
retribution,  of  a  judgment  to  come,  of  a  state  of  endless 
despair,  and  a  world  of  divine  glory.  It  proclaims  sal 
vation,  by  sacrifice,  and  opens  to  the  believing  soul  the 
gates  of  the  city  and  kingdom  of  God.  It  does  all  this 
with  an  authority  as  awful  as  Jehovah's.  It  comes  with 
credentials,  supernatural  and  overwhelming.  It  stauds 
before  men  like  a  crowned  creature  of  eternity,  the  eyes 
flashing,  the  robe  radiant,  the  voice  like  an  angel's.  At 
its  bidding,  seas  are  stilled,  diseases  healed,  the  heavens 
darkened  at  midday,  the  graves  are  opened,  and  the 
dead  arise.  It  appeals  to  the  human  spirit  by  motives 
of  overwhelming  power,  urging,  beseeching,  command- 


46  PREJUDICE. 

mg,  the  imperiled  men  to  give  instant  heed  to  the  great 
things  of  salvation,  until  verily  the  apostolic  rhetoric  is 
realized.  "  An  embassador  from  God  stands  on  this 
revolted  world,  as  if  God  himself  did  beseech  in  Christ's 
stead,  beseeching  impenitent  men  to  be  reconciled  to 
GodT 

But  unto  all  this  what  says  the  thoughtless  immortal  ? 
Alas,  like  Nathaniel,  he  rejects  the  truth  with  a  pitiful 
cant  of  prejudice  !  He  says,  "  Oh  !  the  Bible  is  so  fall 
of  mysteries?''  As  if  there  were  nothing  in  it  beautifully 
comprehensible !  As  if  a  revelation  without  mysteries 
were  not  a  heaven  without  stars.'  As  if  a  poor  outcast 
would  not  accept  the  heirship  of  a  kingdom,  because 
he  understood  not  the  mysterious  crystallization  of  its' 
crown-gems ! 

Or,  he  says,  "  Oh,  there  are  so  many  different  sects  and 
denominations  of  Christians  /"  As  if  the  different  flow- 
ers of  the  field  were  an  argument  against  summer,  or 
the  many  stars  of  heaven  were  inconsistent  with  the 
truths  of  astronomy  ;  as  if  a  famishing  garrison  in  a  be- 
sieged fortress  would  not  accept  deliverance  at  the  hands 
of  a  conquering  host,  because  divided  into  battalions  and 
bearing  various  banners !  Or  he  says,  "  Oh,  there  are  so 
many  hypocrites  in  the  Church!"  As  if  one  erratic 
comet  in  the  sky  destroyed  all  the  glories  of  the  firma- 
ment. Or  he  says,  "  Oh,  religion  is  such  a  gloomy  sub- 
ject." As  if  it  could  be  sorrowful  to  have  heaven  for  a 
home,  and  God  for  a  father  !  As  if  a  poor  captive  in  a 
deep  dark  dungeon,  would  recoil  from  the  broad,  bright, 
free  world  of  summer  and  sunshine  ! 

I  need  not  pursue  the  thought.  These,  and  such  as 
these,  are  the  pleas  urged  every  day  against  the  claims 


PREJUDICE.  47 

of  the  Gospel.  And  I  ask  again,  if  Nathaniel's  objection 
to  Christ  was  more  manifestly  a  mere  prejudice? 

"  Can  any  good  thing  come  out  of  Nazareth  ?"  Alas, 
foolish  Israelite,  "  Come  and  see  !  Come  and  see  !" 
Come  and  see  the  descending  dove  !  Come  hear  God's 
loud  voice  out  of  heaven !  Come  sit  at  Jesus'  feet,  and 
listen  to  his  adorable  and  heavenly  words  ! 

Nay,  rather,  alas,  foolish  unbeliever!  for  your  cavils 
are  as  unfounded  and  fouler.  Prejudiced  against  Christ 
and  his  glorious  Gospel !  Then  it  is  because  you  have 
not  studied  them,  nor  known  them. 

Prejudiced  against  the  Christ,  the  Saviour  of  sinners, 
the  Son  of  God !  "  Come  and  see."  Come  back  into 
eternity,  before  the  world  was !  Behold  !  there  is  no 
time,  no  material  universe,  no  spiritual  universe,  no  sun 
shining,  no  angel  singing !  But  yet  no  infinite  void ; 
but  an  infinite  fullness.  Behold  this  Son  of  God  there  ! 
"  For  the  Word  mas  with  God/"  Look  again.  The  uni- 
verse is  to  be  created  ;  sun  and  stars ;  thrones .  and 
dominion ;  angel  and  archangel.  At  an  Omnific  word 
they  spring  into  being  !  And  who  created  them  ?  This 
Son  of  God  again— for  "  The  Word  was  God."  Behold 
again.  There  is  apostasy  in  that  universe.  One  poor 
planet  breaks  from  its  moral  moorings,  and  sweeps  out- 
ward-bound into  darkness  !  It  must  be  saved  !  How  ? 
Tell  us,  all  ye  angels  !  Ye  can  not !  "  Come  and  see." 
Upon  the  face  of  that  imperiled  world  appeax-s  a  Being 
from  Eternity  !  "  one  traveling  in  the  greatness  of  his 
strength,  mighty  to  save."  This  Son  of  God  again.  "For 
the  Word  icas  made  flesh,  and  dwelt  among  us,  and  ice 
beheld  his  glory,  the  glory  of  the  only-begotten  of  the 
Father,  full  of  grace  and  truth."    Mighty  to  save  !    But 


48  PREJUDICE. 

how  ?  Oh,  by  sacrifice — by  suffering — bearing  our  sins  for 
us!  "Come  and  see!"  Behold  a  feeble  babe  in  a  man- 
ger! a  man  forlorn  and  tempted  in  the  wilderness  !  And 
now  in  the  gloomy  garden  his  sweat  as  great  drops  of 
blood  in  that  ineffable  agony  !  And  now  on  that  cross — 
that  dread  mount  of  expiation  !  And  all  this  that  the 
world  might  be  saved ;  that  you  might  be  saved  ! 
"  Come  and  see  !"  Ah  me !  what  love  !  Beyond  thought, 
beyond  degree  !  "  Herein  is  love."  Any  good  thing 
out  of  Nazareth?  —  "  Come  and  see  f" —  "  Come  and 
see  /" 

Or,  if  you  are  of  those  who  pretend  to  admire  the 
Christ,  yet  personally  reject  his  Gospel,  as  a  worthless 
thing,  then  come  and  look  at  Christianity  as  working 
out  man's  happiness ! 

Surely,  while  he  dwelt  with  men  on  the  earth,  Christ's 
ministry  was  blessed !  Come  and  see — That  multitude  fed 
in  the  wilderness !  That  stormy  sea  of  Galilee  calmed 
into  stillness  as  his  divine  feet  walked  it !  That  funeral 
train  at  the  gate  of  Nain !  stopped  by  a  glorious  formj 
and  the  beloved  son  pressed  again  to  the  mother's  joyous 
heart.  Surely,  all  this  was  blessed !  And  yet  this  but 
imperfectly  emblemizes  the  goodness  unto  the  believer 
of  Christ's  spiritual  consolations. 

"  Any  thing  good  out  of  Nazareth  ?"  "  Come  and 
see." 

Take  me  by  the  hand,  and  walk  through  the  streets 
of  your  city.  Come  into  this  poor  court — into  this  for- 
lorn chamber!  Behold  this  sick  old  man,  lying  on  his 
hard  pallet ;  by  his  side  a  crust  of  bread,  a  cup  of  cold 
water.  Alas,  he  was  comfortable  once ! — a  wife  who 
loved  him,  children  who  honored  him !     But  they  have 


PREJUDICE.  49 

gone  to  the  grave,  and  lie  seems  forlorn  and  friendless! 
But  what  is  he  doing?  Reading  his  Bible!  And  when 
I  say,  "  My  old  friend,  this  is  hard  for  yon  !"  his  response 
is,  "  Hard !  oh,  no  ;  I  do  not  suffer  as  my  Saviour  suffered. 
I  was  just  reading  it:  ' The  foxes  have  holes,  and  the 
birds  of  the  air  have  nests,  but  the  Son  of  man  hath  not 
where  to  lay  his  head.''  Oh,  Jesus  suffered  every  thing 
for  me;  can  not  I  suffer  any  thing  for  Jesus?  Oh,  I 
have  this  blessed  Bible,  and  whenever  I  open  it,  it  is  as 
if  a  shining  angel  talked  to  me  out  of  heaven.  My  poor 
chamber  seems  heaven's  gate,  and  I  am  happy — so 
happy  !"  Yes,  matchless  comforting  of  the  Redeemer. 
"  Come  and  see'''' — "  Gome  and  see." 

Behold,  again,  in  yonder  dwelling,  a  young  mother 
sits  watching  by  the  coffin  of  her  first-born  child  !  See, 
her  cheek  is  stained  with  tears !  She  has  been  pressing 
her  lip  to  that  cold  forehead,  and  twining  her  fingers  in 
that  silken  hair !  Alas !  who  knoweth  the  power  of  a 
bereaved  mother's  sorrow  ?  Her  child  will  never  smile 
on  her  again  ! — never  say,  "  Mother,"  "  mother,"  again. 
And  who  can  comfort  her  ?  Who  ?  Why,  Christ  has 
comforted  her.  Hark  to  her  words  :  "  Oh,  he  said  it,  my 
gracious  Saviour  said  it — '  /Suffer  little  children  to  come 
unto  me,  and  forbid  them  not;  for  of  such  is  the  king- 
dom of  heaven /'  Yes,  my  babe  has  gone  to  heaven; 
my  lamb  is  in  the  Shepherd's  bosom !  There,  in  the  pas- 
tures so  green,  by  the  waters  so  tranquil."  Oh,  precious 
Gospel-comforting.     "  Come  and  see  " — "  Come  and  see." 

Behold,  again !  A  home  of  sorrowing  love — a  fair 
young  girl  passing  away  in  agony,  surrounded  by  all 
that  can  make  life  blessed ;  the  idol  of  parents,  and  sis- 
ters, and  adoring  friends ;  like  a  bird  pierced  by  the 


50  PREJUDICE. 

archer's  arrow,  just  as,  with  joyous  wings  and  song,  it 
was  mounting  to  the  morning  sun.  So  in  the  freshness 
of  life  and  love  and  joy,  hath  the  destroyer's  breath 
fallen  on  its  beautiful  victim.  Alas,  alas  !  She  to  die,  in 
the  gladness  of  her  youth,  in  the  glory  of  her  promise  ! 
She  to  turn  aside  from  the  green  earth,  and  laughing 
sky,  and  lie  down  with  the  winding-sheet  and  the  worm 
in  the  dark,  pitiless  sepulchre !  How  can  she  bear  it  ? 
How  can  she  be  comforted  ?  How  ?  "  Come  and  see." 
See  how  her  eye  sparkles !  Hark  to  her  faith-inspired 
words  !  "  Oh,  sister,  father,  mother,  do  not  weep  for  me. 
It  is  sad  to  part  from  you ;  but  we  shall  meet  again  in 
heaven.  And  I  am  going  to  be  with  Christ,  to  see  the 
divine  glory,  to  walk  the  golden  streets,  to  dwell  in  the 
many  mansions.  Oh,  do  you  not  see  them,  these  shining 
ones  ?  And  there,  those  gates  of  glory  !  Oh,  weep  not. 
Rather  sing — sing : — 

"  '  The  world  recedes,  it  disappears, 
Heaven  opens  on  my  eyes,  my  ears 

With  sounds  seraphic  ring. 
Lend,  lend  your  wings,  I  mount,  I  fly — 
0  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  I 
O  Death,  where  is  thy  sting  1'  " 

Oh,  blessed  comforting  of  Christ  !  any  thing  good  out 
of  Nazareth  ? — "  Come  and  see  " — "  Come  and  see.'''' 

Oh,  away  with  your  prejudices !  This  world,  and 
heaven,  and  time,  and  eternity,  are  filled  with  living  wit- 
nesses to  the  unspeakable  goodness  of  "  the  truth  as  it  is 
in  Jesus."  God  hath  not  given  to  a  poor  worm,  the 
power  to  speak  fitly  of  such  things,  things  unseen,  un- 
heard, unutterable,  which  are  prepared  in  the  Gospel  for 
those  that  love   God.     But  if  I  could  do  it — if  I  could 


PREJUDICE.  51 

show  you  how  like  visiting  angels  this  Gospel  comes  to 
comfort  and  gladden — how  it  dries  every  tear,  and 
assuages  every  anguish,  and  hangs  a  heavenly  lamp  at 
the  lowliest  lintel — and  hushes  every  storm  on  life's 
troubled  waters,  and  brings  angels  to  the  death-bed,  and 
makes  radiant  the  grave !  Yea,  more  !  If  I  could  tell 
you  how  it  prepares  man  for  immortality !  How  it 
meets  the  soul,  as  it  casts  off  the  burden  of  the  flesh,  and 
clothes  it  in  heavenly  robes,  and  indues  it  with  heavenly 
faculties,  and  bears  it  to  heavenly  places — through  the 
gates  of  pearl,  along  the  streets  of  the  golden  city, 
through  the  opening  ranks  of  cherubim  and  seraphim,  to 
sit  down  in  the  midst  of  the  Throne  of  God — a  sharer 
in  Christ's  triumph,  as  a  sharer  in  his  suffering — a 
king  and  a  priest  unto  God,  amid  all  and  over  all  the 
high  things  of  immensity  and  eternity  ! 

Oh,  if  I  could  do  this,  then  never  again  would  you  turn 
away  in  scorn  from  him  who  dwelt  in  Nazareth  ! 

But  this  I  can  not  do.  "We  have  this  treasure  in 
earthen  vessels  ;"  "  we  see  through  a  glass  darkly  ;"  we 
can  but  point  you  to  evidence,  and  tell  you  of  experience. 
And  this,  alas,  is  not  enough.  You  hate  the  heavenly 
light  because  your  deeds  are  evil.  Like  dazed  sea-birds 
in  a  stormy  night,  you  dash  yourselves  to  death  against 
the  very  crystal  through  which  streams  the  blessed 
light  of  the  beacon  !  A  thousand  times  as  now  have 
you  sat  in  heavenly  places — here  in  God's  house, 
heaven's  very  gate — heard  the  joyous  voices — seen 
the  radiant  visions,  and  yet,  gone  away  despising  them. 
Gone  away  as  you  will  to-day,  with  the  Jew's  pitiful 
question — "Can  any  good  thing  come  out  of  Nazareth?" 
— when  God's  whole  universe  utters  the  gracious  invita- 


52  PREJUDICE. 

tion ;  the  sun  and  stars  uttering  it — the  living  and 
the  dead  uttering  it — the  mortal  and  immortal  uttering  it 
— angel  and  archangel  uttering  it — God  the  Father,  and 
the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost  uttering  it — uttering  it 
tenderly  and  terribly,  gentle  as  the  whisper  of  a  seraph, 
and  loud  as  the  sound  of  many  waters, — God's  great  call 
to  his  imperiled  creature.  "  Come  and  See " — "  Come 
and  See  "' 


INSINCERE   UNBELIEF. 


"  At  that  time  Herod  the  Tetrarch  heard  of  the  fame  of  Jesus,  and  said 
unto  his  servants,  This  is  John  the  Baptist,  he  is  risen  from  the  dead; 
and  therefore  mighty  works  do  show  forth  themselves  in  him." — Matthew, 
xiv.  1,  2. 

Tins  text  is  no  part  of  revelation.  It  is  only  the 
record  of  an  infidel  falsehood ;  and  inspiration  is  con- 
cerned with  it  only  as  guiding  aright  the  pen  of  the 
historian,  and  giving  ns  assurance  that  the  unbeliev- 
ing Herod  certainly  uttered  these  words.  But  as  an 
infidel  utterance  it  commends  itself  to  all  infidels,  as 
worthy  their  serious  regard  and  full  of  practical  in- 
struction. 

They  should  learn  here,  at  least,  these  three  things  : — ■ 
That  practical  unbelief  distrusts  itself,  disavows  itself 
and  punishes  itself 

First.  All  such  unbelief  like  HerocVs,  distrusts  itself 
Scepticism  is  never  wholly  satisfied  with  its  own 
creed  ;  never  rests  confidently  on  its  own  reasonings. 
So  it  was  with  Herod.  As  a  Saddncee  he  rejected 
the  doctrine  of  the  Resurrection,  whether  of  angel  or 
spirit.  And  yet,  suddenly  startled  from  his  self-pos- 
session by  an  alarm  of  conscience,  he  is  seen  in  the 
text   to   affirm    strongly   the   truth   whose    denial   was 


54  INSINCERE     UNBELIEF. 

fundamental  to  his  system !  And  herein  is  illustrated 
the  usual,  perhaps  universal  distrust  of  unbelief  in  its 
own  tenets.  Being  at  best  a  system  of  negations,  it 
affords  no  ground  of  confidence.  It  does  not  even 
attempt  to  disprove  the  great  truths  of  the  Resurrection 
and  Eternal  Retribution, — and  its  denial  evidently  con- 
sists with  an  apprehension  that  these  doctrines  may 
be  true.  The  simple  fact  that  Infidelity,  while  silently 
tolerating  all  forms  of  heathenism,  is  ever  attacking 
Christianity,  is  in  proof  that  it  fears  its  great  truths. 
And  the  ever-recurring  fact  has  passed  into  a  proverb — 
that  infidels  are,  of  all  men,  most  afraid  of  death,  and  most 
superstitious,  indeed,  generally.  Sincere  faith  is  serene, 
self-possessed,  reliant.  The  traveler  on  the  king's  high- 
way walks  calmly  and  confidently,  because  he  feels 
that  his  feet  are  on  adamant;  while  he,  in  a  marsh  or 
a  quicksand,  is  all  restless  and  excited  through  his  dis- 
trust of  the  road.  This  very  vaj)oring  of  unbelief  in 
behalf  of  its  tenets  is  significant  of  insincerity.  The 
man  who  says,  "  all  men  will  be  saved,"  shows  by  his 
eagerness  for  controversy  that  he  feels  not  quite  sure 
of  it.  Call  it  what  you  will,  and  account  for  it  as  you 
may,  there  is  in  every  heart  an  instinct  of  retribution ; 
and  ever  and  anon  it  conjures  from  the  unknown  future 
shadowy  forms  before  which  the  heart  recoils  and  the 
knees  smite  together.  And  quite  certain  I  am,  that  I 
address  no  unbeliever  so  thoroughly  persuaded  of  his 
infidelity  that  he  is  never  appalled  by  a  misgiving. 

The  man  may  meet  me  with  great  swelling  words 
about  priestcraft  and  superstition,  and  may  utter  elo- 
quent declamations  that  the  Bible  is  a  lie,  and  death  is 
annihilation;  yet,  I  know  that  he  looks  upon  that  Bible 


INSINCERE    UNBELIEF.  55 

with  a  fear,  and  passes  that  grave  with  misgivings; 
that  in  many  an  hour  of  solitude  and  silence  voices  of 
alarm  are  loud  in  his  soul,  and  phantoms  from  eternity 
move  fearfully  before  him  !  For  all  unbelief  is  of  "  the 
leaven  of  Herod,"  and  he  stands  before  us  in  the  text  a 
true  type  of  his  kind.  Only  yesterday  the  haughty 
Tetrarch — that  he  might  quiet  his  conscience  in  his  ways 
of  iniquity,  went  forth  as  the  chieftain  of  Sadducean 
infidelity,  loudly  denying  the  fact,  yea,  even  the  possi- 
bility of  a  Resurrection.  And  yet,  to-day,  we  see  him 
startled  out  of  his  pretentious  confidence  by  a  story  of 
Christ's  miracles — practically  confessing  the  insincerity 
of  his  words  with  pale  face  and  trembling  limbs  and 
quivering  lip,  proclaiming — "It  is  John  the  JJcfptist. 
He  is  risen  from  the  dead  !" 

Passing  this,  observe,  secondly — That  all  unbelief, 
like  Herod's,  not  only  distrusts  itself,  but  often,  and  in 
the  end,  almost  always  disavows  itself! 

It  may  clamor  against  the  hard  things  of  revelation,  as 
opposed  to  its  instincts  and  its  reason ;  yet,  will  ever 
and  anon  make  practical  confession  that  they  seem  not 
unreasonable.  This  is  strikingly  exhibited  in  this 
history  of  Herod. 

Confessedly  among  all  the  things  in  revelation,  hard 
to  understand,  and  hard  to  believe,  this  doctrine  of  the 
Resurrection,  even  by  the  teaching  of  Christ,  stands 
first.  It  is  certainly  a  doctrine  not  discoverable  by 
reason.  Xature  has  nothing  to  suggest,  nothing,  indeed, 
analogous  to  its  marvels.  The  fair  flower  from  the  seed 
— the  winged  insect  from  the  crysalis — these  common 
illustrations  of  the  Resurrection  fail  in  one  and  the 
essential   point.       They   were    not    dead,    though   they 


56  INSINCERE    UNBEIIEF. 

seemed  so.  And  before  they  have  any  power  in  the 
argument,  we  must  be  shown  some  germ  of  vegetable 
or  animal  life,  ground  into  powder,  and  scattered  by  the 
winds,  unto  which  summer  and  sunshine  return  re- 
sjatherimj  the  material,  and  recreating  the  life. 

We  have  indeed  no  controversy  with  those  who 
maintain  the  mystery ;  yea,  the  positive  unnaturalness 
of  this  great  doctrine.  It  is  wisest  to  regard  it  as  a  pure 
doctrine  of  revelation.  All  we  insist  on,  as  illustrated 
by  the  case  of  Herod,  is,  that  when  once  revealed  it  is 
reasonable  to  accept  it.  It  is  a  marvelous  truth,  un- 
questionably, this  truth  of  the  Resurrection  !  For  six 
thousand  yearti  there  has  gone  on  this  destruction  of 
our  species.  The  babe,  the  mother,  the  gray-haired 
man,  have  gone  down  in  countless  millions  to  the  great 
burial !  Dust,  human  dust  it  is,  and  that  onee  reddened 
in  the  lip  and  sparkled  in  the  eye  and  bounded  in  the 
pulses,  that  to-day  is  blown  about  by  the  winds,  and 
washed  away  by  the  waters,  and  trampled  under  foot 
of  living  men,  until  this  fair  world,  rounded  into 
beauty  and  hung  amid  the  stars,  as  the  blessed  home 
of  God's  man-child,  shows  dark  and  appalling  as  his 
Golgotha  and  his  grave  !  And  yet  over  all  this  ruin 
of  dead  generations,  there  is  to  break  a  life-giving 
summons :  and  atom  shall  come  to  its  fellow  atom,  and 
bone  to  its  fellow  bone,  and  bursting  the  long  bondage 
of  the  grave,  they  shall  come  forth  covering  the  sea, 
and  covering  the  land,  all  the  millions  of  earth's 
buried  population. 

It  is  a  great  and  difficult  conception  in  regard  of  the 
race,  nor  scarcely  less  difficult  in  regard  of  the  individual. 
The  beloved  one  may  have  died  and  been  buried  by 


INSINCERE    UNBELIEF.  57 

stranger-hands  amid  polar  snows  or  tropic  sands — or  may 
have  gone  down  into  the  depth  of  seas,  or  been  burned 
in  tierce  fires,  and  the  ashes  scattered  as  the  dust  of  a 
furnace  !  Nevertheless  that  dust  shall  live  again  !  The 
hour  comes  when  that  eye  again  shall  flash  and  that 
heart  bound,  and  just  as  it  stood  before  us,  face  to  face, 
a  mysterious  creature — a  spirit  wedded  to  dead  matter, 
will  the  spoiled  and  conquered  grave  give  it  back  to  the 
ministries  of  another  and  an  endless  life  ! 

Now  these,  we  grant  you,  are  strange  and  difficult 
conceptions.  Nevertheless  they  are  not  incredible.  Nay, 
they  are  altogether  philosophic  and  rational  when  we 
are  once  advised  that  such  is  God's  great  purpose 
in  regard  of  our  race.  "  Why  should  it  be  thought 
incredible  that  God  should  raise  the  dead  ?"  Is  there 
after  all  any  thing  more  wonderful  in  the  Resurrec- 
tion than  in  the  creation  of  the  race  ?  I  look  around, 
andlo!  ten  thousand  marvelous  organisms  are  filling 
the  landscape  with  exulting  life !  I  lift  my  eye  to  the 
firmament,  and  behold  !  its  immensity  is  crowded  with 
stupenduous  architecture !  And  whose  are  all  these 
wonderful  works?  Who  peopled  all  these  fields  of 
space  ?  Who  kindled  these  great  fires  of  the  firmament  ? 
Why,  God — God  !  And  can  this  God  then  be  baffled 
and  over-matched  by  this  marvel. of  the  Resurrection? 
Ah,  no,  no  !  In  ascribing  the  Resurrection  alone  to 
Divine  Wisdom  and  Power  the  Bible  brings  the  "  hard 
thing"  within  the  conditions  of  the  rational,  the  logical. 
It  is  only  another  marvel  amid  the  great  universe  of 
marvels  that  surround  us  and  press  upon  us.  And  the 
reason  does  not  rightfully  reject  it,  nor  the  instinct  recoil 
from  it. 

3* 


58  INSINCERE     UNBELIEF. 

And  I  say  this  fact  is  most  strikingly  exhibited  in  the 
text.  As  we  see  Herod,  a  man  reared  in  unbelief,  and 
hardened  in  all  iniquity,  yet,  brought  face  to  face  with 
the  divine  workings  in  the  person  of  the  Divine  Son,  and 
forced  out  of  his  pretentions  cavils  against  things  hard 
to  be  understood — asserting,  as  something  altogether 
philosophic  and  probable,  "This  is  John  the  Baptist — 
he  is  risen  from  the  dead." 

Yea,  and  the  text's  illustration  on  this  point  goes 
much  further.  It  shows,  not  only  that  the  Resurrection 
is  a  reasonable  doctrine,  but  that  all  the  Bible  teaches  as 
to  the  effects  of  that  Resurrection  upon  its  subjects  is  as 
icell  reasonable  and  philosophic. 

These  teachings  may  be  embraced  in  two  particulars — 
the  positive  identity,  and  the  greatly  enlarged  powers  and 
faculties  of  the  Risen  Immortal. 

1st.  The  Bible  affirms  this  identity.  The  creature 
raised  from  the  grave  is  to  be  the  same  creature  who 
goes  down  into  it.  Death  has  no  power  to  destroy  or 
alter  human  nature.  It  can  not  annihilate  a  single  fac- 
ulty or  function  of  the  species.  It  can  obliterate  no 
memory.  It  can  weaken  no  affection  !  Have  I  laid  a 
beloved  one  into  the  grave — a  brother,  a  sister,  a  friend, 
a  child  ?  Why  then,  sister,  and  brother,  and  child,  and 
friend,  must  the  grave  give  them  back  to  me  !  So  Revela- 
tion teaches.  Said  our  Lord  to  the  sisters  of  Bethany, 
"  Your  brother  shall  rise  again.''''  Not  a  stranger-spirit, 
forgetful  of  the  past,  unsympathizing  with  the  present, 
unassociated  in  all  the  future,  but  a  man  to  walk  all  the 
great  paths  of  immortality,  bearing  the  same  lineaments, 
the  same  affections,  yea,  the  same  endeared  name ;  still 
"  a  brother." 


INSINCERE    UNBELIEF.  59 

And  whatever  difficulties  there  may  seem,  a  priori,  in 
this  perpetuity  of  these  mortal  affections,  God  is  surely 
competent  to  their  removal.  And  such  perpetuity  falls 
in  with  our  philosophic  expectations,  as  we  see  in  the 
text.  Herod  heard  of  a  being  walking  the  world  whom 
he  believed  to  have  risen  from  the  dead — to  have  under- 
gone all  the  mysterious  processes  of  death  and  the  Resur- 
rection. And  he  says,  "  It  is  " — what ?  a  spirit  ?  a  phan- 
tom ?  a  creature  unlike  the  mortal  John  whom  he  had 
beheaded?  Oh,  no.  But  as  if  the  very  man,  with  all 
his  memories  of  sufferings  and  persecutions,  with  the 
same  nature,  yea,  the  same  name,  had  returned  as  an 
avenger.  He  says,  "  It  is  John.  It  is  John  the  Baptist. 
He  is  risen  from  the  dead!" 

2d.  The  Bible  teaches,  that  along  with  this  identity, 
the  raised  body  shall  possess  powers  and  faculties  very 
greatly  enlarged. 

To  the  question,  "  How  are  the  dead  raised,  and  xoith 
what  body  do  they  come?'''' 

It  answers, — 

"It  is  sown  in  corruption,  it  is  raised  in  incorruption." 
It  shall  have  in  it  no  principle  of  decay,  but  shall  go 
forth  as  the  soul  itself,  immutable  and  immortal. 

"It  is  sown  in  dishonor,  it  is  raised  in  glory.'1'' — Xo 
longer  a  degraded  organism,  to  be  kept  under  dust,  cru- 
cified, but  of  all  God's  visible  works  most  beautiful  and 
stately — that  redeemed  body  as  it  mounts  to  the  skies  ! 

" It  is  sown  in  weakness,  it  is  raised  in  power" — No 
longer  subject  to  infirmity  or  exhaustion,  but  sinewed  to 
walk  with  the  angels  the  great  paths  of  immortality,  and 
to  bear  unburdened  even  that  "  far  more  exceeding  and 
eternal  weight  of  glory." 


60  INSINCERE     UNBELIEF. 

"  It  is  sown  a  natural  body,  it  is  raised  a  spiritual 
body." — No  longer  a  fetter  and  confinement  of  the  in- 
dwelling spirit,  but  the  body  itself  so  etherealized  out  of 
mere  natural  conditions  as  to  walk  upon  the  waters,  and 
career  upon  the  winds,  in  the  fashion  and  with  the 
power  of  Christ's  own  glorious  Body. 

Thus  speaks  God's  Word  of  the  great  marvel  of  the 
Resurrection  ;  and  surely  in  all  this  there  is  nothing  un- 
philosophic.  Natural  analogies  go  far  to  illustrate  it. 
We  cast  into  the  earth  the  unshapely  seed,  and  it  bursts 
forth  a  flower,  radiantly  beautiful.  The  worm  dies  in  its 
winding-sheet,  and,  breaking  its  dark  cerement,  there 
springs  forth,  on  rainbow-colored  wings,  a  joyous  wan- 
derer through  the  heavens  ! 

We  expect,  almost  instinctively,  that,  if  there  be  a 
resurrection,  its  subject  will  become  vastly  more  power- 
ful and  glorious,  when  "  this  mortal  shall  have  put  on 
immortality.  " 

Thus  even  did  Herod,  with  all  his  pretentious  unbelief. 
The  living  John  did  no  miracle.  His  ministry  on  earth 
was  in  the  manifestation  of  no  extraordinary  powers. 
And  the  Tetrarch  looked  scornfully  upon  his  unpretend- 
ing work,  and  slew  him,  without  a  fear,  in  his  prison 
But  the  moment  he  thinks  of  him  as  the  subject  of  the 
Resurrection,  he  is  startled,  as  at  the  coming  of  one  sa- 
pernaturally  gifted.  They  tell  him  of  a  mysterious  visit- 
ant, walking  among  men  in  the  exercise  of  tremendous 
miraculous  powers,  and  his  philosophic  solution  of  the 
marvel  is — "  These  mighty  works  do  show  forth  them- 
selves in  him."  Why?  Because  he  is  John  the  Baptist  ? 
Surely  not ;  for  the  living  John  neither  healed  diseases, 
nor  cast  out  devils.     But  "  these  mighty  works  do  show 


INSINCERE     UNBELIEF.  61 

themselves  in  him,"  because  he  is  John  the  Baptist — 

RISEN  PROM  THE  DEAD  ! 

We  say,  therefore,  that  herein  is  strikingly  exhibited 
the  not  uncommon  fact,  that  these  men,  ever  clamoring 
against  "  the  hard  things  of  revelation,  are  ever  making 
manifest  their  instinctive  belief  of  them.  Indeed,  there 
is  in  human  nature  something  instantly  responding  to 
the  voices  of  revelation.  The  Bible  does  precisely  what 
we  should  expect  it  to  do,  as  an  oracle  of  Gotl.  It  appeals 
to  a  faculty  of  our  nature  (which  has  properly  been 
termed  "the  spiritual,  or  faith-faculty),  which  accepts  its 
truth,  not  logically,  but  as  by  instinctive  apprehension. 

And  it  is  by  reason  of  this,  that  unlearned  and  weak- 
minded  Christians  do  maintain  their  faith  so  grandly 
against  all  the  assaults  of  philosophic  infidelity.  They 
can  not  argue  for  the  truth,  but  they  can  apprehend  it. 
And  this  natural  moral  sense  exists  originally  in  all  men. 
The  Bible  never  came  to  a  human  spirit  that  did  not  at 
some  time  respond  to  its  felt  truthfulness.  The  man  may, 
indeed,  in  his  love  of  iniquity,  harden  himself  against  its 
truths,  and  set  himself  to  disprove  them ;  yea,  lift  up  his 
voice  loudly  and  confidently  in  their  denunciation,  as 
hard  things,  and  unreasonable  things,  and  positively  ab- 
surd things,  until  the  world  regards  him  as  a  thoroughly 
confirmed  and  sincere  unbeliever.  Nevertheless,  there  are 
chords  in  that  man's  moral  nature  that,  like  an  iEolian's 
to  the  winds  of  heaven,  respond,  ever  and  anon,  to  the 
influences  of  inspiration.  And,  often  consciously  to  him- 
self, and  sometimes  obviously  to  others,  his  unbelief,  like 
the  Tetrarclfs,  first  distrusts,  and  then  disavows  itself. 
And,  if  I  speak  to  such  to-day — to  men  who  have  so 
given  themselves  up  to  infidel  arguments,  and  so  com- 


02  INSINCERE    UNBELIEF. 

niitted  themselves  to  infidel  companionships,  as  to  be 
regarded  as  absolutely  rooted  and  grounded  in  unbelief, 
and  to  have  never  a  thought  of  God,  or  a  care  for  eter- 
nity ;  yet,  if  they  have  ever  read  their  Bibles  at  all,  so 
that  its  despised  truths  rise  sometimes  in  the  mind,  linked 
with  the  memory  of  the  parent,  or  sister,  or  child,  or 
friend,  who  died,  calmly  relying  on  God's  inspired  prom- 
ises, then  sure  I  am  that,  under  all  this  outward  hardi- 
hood, as  a  living  well-spring  amid  the  tangled  growths 
of  a  forest,  faith  yet  keeps  open  a  troubled  fountain — 
that  those  wayward  feet  recoil  at  times  from  the  terrible 
glooms,  and  would  fain  turn  unto  the  transcendent  glories 
of  eternity;  and  that  all  these  truths  of  God's  Word 
which  they  ridicule  as  absurd  things  and  foolish,  do,  in 
their  better  moments,  seem  altogether  probable,  and  ra- 
tional, and  wise.  For  I  know  that  all  these  men  are  of 
the  type  of  this  Tetrarch,  whose  rank  was  a  very  chief- 
tain of  practical  and  speculative  unbelief,  and  yet  whose 
earnest  disavowal  of  his  own  unbelief — yea,  whose  un- 
bribed  testimony  to  the  rationality  of  the  very  truths 
he  denied,  is  recorded  in  his  outcry  in  the  text — "  This 
is  John  the  Baptist,  he  is  risen  from  the  dead!" 

Passing  this,  observe,  thirdly — That  all  such  unbelief 
like  Herod's  positively  punishes  itself. 

We  have  said  that  the  Tetrarch  rooted  and  grounded 
himself  in  the  Sadduceeans'  infidelity  in  order  that  he  might 
quiet  his  conscience  in  ways  of  iniquity.  »  And  yet  by 
that  very  violence  done  to  his  moral  sense  he  was  arming 
it  as  a  terrible  avenger.  Having  rid  himself  of  all  fear 
of  God,  and  all  principles  of  virtue,  he  gave  himself 
without  restraint  to  all  evil  and  cruel  pleasures,  and 
when,  commissioned  of   God,  John  broke   in    upon  his 


IXSI.XCERE    UNBELIEF.  63 

ungodliness  with  his  stern  presence  and  awful  voice, 
Herod  east  him  into  prison  and  Blew  him.  And  then 
turned  again  to  his  evil  courses  with  an  exulting  confi- 
dence that  no  other  voice  would  ever  dare  to  raise  itself 
in  his  path  of  selfish  and  guilty  gladness.  But  alas  he 
did  not  understand  then,  as  at  the  last,  God's  great  law 
of  retribution. 

Conscience!  Conscience!  It  was  itself  a  Resurrection- 
power  within. him! — There  came  at  last  a  season  of  re- 
pose to  his  overwrought  passions.  Herod  is  feasting 
with  his  train  in  imperial  pavilions.  They  discourse  of 
the  fame  of  Jesus.  They  tell  him  of  a  mysterious  Man 
walking  amid  the  cities  and  villages  of  the  land,  gifted, 
seemingly,  with  the  powers  of  higher  and  immortal 
beings  !  Of  stilled  seas,  and  healed  diseases,  and  the 
dead  raised  unto  life  ! 

And  look  at  the  Tetrarch  now  !  His  cheek  pale,  his 
lip  quivering,  his  wild  eye  glaring  upon  vacancy !  He 
starts  from  his  couch  !  The  wine  cup  drops  from  his 
hand  !  as  he  whispers  with  white  lips — "  It  is  John  the 
Baptist — he  is  risen  from  the  dead!'''' 

Ah  me !  "What  aileth  the  Tetrarch  there  amid  princes 
and  nobles  ?  John  the  Baptist  sleeps  still  in  his  distant 
grave.  But  a  simple  thought  long  buried  within  his 
murderer's  soul  hath  been  unsepulchred !  He  thought 
to  silence  the  living  voice  of  God's  prophet,  but  that 
voice  in  the  dark  chambers  of  his  soul  will  wake  echoes 
forever  !  He  thought  to  dismiss  from  his  presence  that 
stern,  reproachful  face !  But  he  only  rendered  it  omni- 
present and  immortal !  And  it  will  come  to  him — it 
will  come — that  whisper  of  the  dead — that  shape  of  the 
departed  !    Let  him  go  forth  amid  life's  bustle  and  hurri- 


64  INSINCERE    UNBELIEF. 

cane.  Let  him  surround  himself  with  silken  courtiers  or 
mailed  men  of  war.  Let  him  retire  into  the  secret  places 
of  his  palace,  and  bar  the  door,  and  draw  the  thick 
curtain!  Nevertheless,  within  his  own  spirit  he  carries 
the  avenger!  The  tormentor  of  the  guilty  will  he  ever 
beside  him !  A  cry  as  of  a  dying  man  will  fill  all  the 
air!  A  dissevered  head  upon  a  charger  will  rise  before 
him  as  if  chiseled  in  adamant !  A  bloodless  face  and 
glazing  eye  will  look  upon  him  from  curtain  and  canopy ! 
And  his  own  lip  will  quiver,  and  his  knees  smite  to- 
gether, and  a  voice  like  one  of  God's  terrible  oracles  will 
be  crying  ever  in  his  ear — "It  is  John  the  Baptist — he  is 
risen  from  the  dead!'''' 

Here  then  we  say  is  a  striking  illustration  of  the  power 
of  a  roused  conscience,  as  God's  avenger  of  sin.  And 
we  commend  it  especially  to  that  class  of  men  who  find 
their  representative  in  Herod.  Against  this  doctrine  of 
Retribution  the  whole  infidel  and  ungodly  world  has 
ever  arrayed  itself.  Nor  is  this  a  marvel !  "  These 
shall  go  away  into  everlasting  punishment!"  Ah,  these 
are  terrible  words.  And  at  first  view  it  does  seem  to  the 
carnal  heart  a  disproportioned  penalty — eternal  punish- 
ment for  temporal  transgression  !  But  this  is  a  false 
seeming.  It  is  not  endless  sufl'ering  for  an  ended  sin. 
The  spirit  goes  on  sinning  into  eternity,  and  so  suffers 
forever  because  it  sins  forever  ! 

I  have  no  room  nor  necessity  here  for  an  argument  for 
Retribution.  I  have  only  to  do  with  this  natural  illus- 
tration. I  am  not  prophesying  what  God  will  do,  but 
only  showing  what  man  himself  does !  It  is  a  favorite 
postulate,  even  of  the  infidel  philosophy,  that  no  im- 
pression once   made   on  the  thinking  principle  is   ever 


INSINCERE     UNBELIEF.  65 

obliterated.  And  it  lias  doubtless  happened  unto  you 
all  to  observe,  how  some  trifling  thing — a  remark  in 
conversation — the  view  of  a  familiar  landscape — a  strain 
of  some  long  forgotten  harmony — yea,  a  thing  so 
slight  as  the  rustle  of  a  falling  leaf,  or  the  breath  of 
a  flower's  perfume — has  awakened  in  the  mind  a  long 
train  of  recollections; — thoughts  long  forgotten  move 
again  powerfully  within  us.  We  are  borne  away  sud- 
denly to  other  scenes,  we  live  virtually  in  other  times 
and  other  conditions.  The  magic  of  memory  has 
summoned  from  the  past,  shadowy  forms,  faces,  voices, 
it  may  be  of  the  dead !  They  rise  upon  us,  they  move 
before  us,  as  life's  great  realities,  and  for  the  time  we 
are  under  their  mysterious  power,  as  our  angels  or 
avengers  ! 

Now,  whether  or  not  conscience  be  but  a  modification 
of  memory,  certain  we  are  it  follows  the  same  great  law. 
Conscience,  too,  may  be  beguiled  for  a  season  of  its 
avenging  power.  You  may  sear  it  with  hot  passion  or 
drug  it  with  ungodly  indulgence.  But  this  you  can  not 
do — you  can  not  destroy  it — you  can  not  permanently 
dethrone  it — you  can  not,  in  the  end,  weaken  one  of  the 
tremendous  blows  it  is  armed  to  strike,  nor  hush  one 
of  the  terrible  oracles  it  is  eloquent  to  utter  !  The  hour 
and  the  scene  of  its  sure  vengeance  is  coming.  There 
are  conditions  wherein  your  control  over  the  conscience 
ceases  forever  ! 

In  that  hour  when  shackle  and  scale  fall  together 
from  the  immortalized-mortal,  every  mprisoned  thought 
within  shall  partake  of  the  enfranchisement,  and  then 
conscience,  aroused  from  its  slumber,  with  iron  foot  and 
lash  of  scorpions,  shall  stalk  in  wierd  power  through  the 


66  INSINCERE    UNBELIEF. 

chambers  of  the  soul,  summoning  back  from  the  grave 
the  shapes  and  spectres  of  the  past; 

And  this  is  the  thought  we  would  force  upon  the  con- 
sideration of  these  modern  Ilerodians  !  This  is  a  sermon 
preached,  not  by  an  inspired  apostle,  but  by  a  progres- 
sive infidel !  And  if  you  will  not  listen  to  John  the  Bap- 
tist as  he  preaches  of  "  Repentance"  listen  at  least  to 
Herod  the  Tetrarch  as  he  preaches  of  the  Resurrection  ! 

You  may  be  of  those  who  laugh  at  the  idea  of  a  hell, 
and  denounce  as  positively  malignant  all  those  inspired 
oracles  which  speak  of  "the  undying  worm,"  and  "  the 
smoke  of  the  torment" — yet  you  are  not  accustomed 
either  to  deny  or  ignore  these  laws  of  your  own  intellect- 
ual and  moral  nature — this  strange  power  of  conscience. 
You  have  sometimes  felt  its  omnipotence  !  It  may  have 
been  slightly,  and  but  for  a  moment !  In  some  move- 
ment of  the  dance,  in  some  swell  of  the  music,  in  spine 
pouring  of  the  wine,  it  may  have  startled  you  tran- 
siently, and  then  slept  again  !  But  know  you  not  what 
you  felt  ?  A  fitful  thought  ?  a  flitting  emotion  ?  A 
voice  like  an  ./Eolian's,  born  and  dying  with  the  wind  ? 
Was  that  all  ?  Alas,  no  !  It  was  the  germ  of  a  terrible 
and  immortal  life  and  growth.  It  was  the  first  touch  of 
a  fang  that  shall  rend  as  a  ravening  lion's.  It  was  the 
first  tongue  of  a  devouring  fire  that  shall  flame  out 
intolerable  forever  ! 

Mark  me — (for  on  such  a  point,  standing  face  to  face 
with  the  awful  words  in  this  Book  of  God,  I  will  not  be 
misunderstood  on  a  point  so  momentous) — mark  me, 
I  do  not  say,  that  this  conscience  is  all  there  is  in  retri- 
bution. Even  in  the  case  of  Herod,  while  he  abode 
among  men,  this  was  not  all — for  the  awful,  record  is — 


INSINCERE     UNBELIEF.  67 

thus  even  as  lac  sat  enthroned  as  a  god  in  royal  apparel, 
"  the  angel  of  the  Lord  smote  him,  and  he  was  eaten  of 
worms,  and  gave  up  the  ghost."  All  this  was  in  the 
llosh !  And  what  his  poor  self  destroyed  spirit  ex- 
perienced as  it  sprang  disembodied  to  eternity,  no  mor- 
tal may  know. 

As  there  are  on  earth  dungeons  of  thick  gloom,  and 
nights  of  terrible  darkness,  so  those  things  may  have 
beyond  the  grave  their  great  antitypes.  There  may  be 
an  extraneous  ministry  of  torment  in  the  dwellings  of 
Heaven's  outcasts  !  There  may  be  Avails  of  fiery  ada- 
mant, and  sackcloth  of  hair — and  awful  forms  stalking 
through  the  glooms  of  the  "  outer  darkness !"  These 
denunciations  of  the  wrath  of  God,  which  fill  all  those 
pages  of  inspiration  may  have  a  positive  and  an  over- 
whelming significance.  Of  such  things  my  text  leads  me 
not  to  speak.  But  of  this  we  may  be  sure  that  if  there 
were  no  room  in  God's  fair  universe  for  any  of  these 
terrible  things,  yet  there  is  room  in  that  universe  for 
sin's  fitting  and  fearful  retribution  ! 

F^or  this  is  even  the  teaching  of  your  own  infidelity. 
It  is  not  Moses,  nor  David,  nor  Paid,  nor  John ;  but  it 
is  Herod,  the  enthroned  chieftain  of  your  own  mocking 
unbelief,  who  to-day  tells  you — that  if  God  should  sweep 
omnipotently  away  that  great  prison-house  of  despair,  and 
quench  its  consuming  fires,  and  hush  its  mighty  thunder- 
ings — nevertheless,  you,  by  the  iniquities  of  your  daily 
lives,  would  rear  again  those  walls,  and  light  again  the 
fires,  and  launch  again  the  thunders ! 

Sin,  sin  it  is,  as  an  operative  principle  within  you, 
that,  by  arming  conscience  with  an  eye  of  fire  and  whip 
of  scorpions,  gives  to  the  "worm"  its  fang,  and  to  the 


68  INSINCERE    UNBELIEF. 

"fires"  their  fierceness.  Believe,  if  you  will,  that  God 
is  too  merciful  to  make  a  hell.  Yet  you  know,  for  you 
have  seen,  that  every  sinful  man  is  making  it.  You 
have  stood  by  the  couch  of  the  inebriate,  when  the  wild 
madness  was  on  him ;  or  by  the  murderer,  when  he 
moved  and  moaned  in  his  fearful  dream !  It  may  have 
been  in  some  beautiful  home  of  love,  in  some  pleasant 
chamber  filled  with  summer  sunshine  and  the  fragrance 
of  bright  flowers.  But  the  man  of  violence  was  con- 
vulsed in  his  slumber,  as  if  the  pale  face  of  his  dead 
victim  rose  ever  before  him ;  and  the  drunkard  sprang 
up  with  glaring  eye,  to  wrestle  with  the  monsters  that 
pressed  upon  him  to  torture !  And  yet,  all  these  tor- 
mentors were  not  creatures  made  by  God,  but  the  man's 
own  creations — the  projections  of  his  own  evil  thoughts 
into  great  outward  realities ! 

This  is  the  law  of  man's  moral  nature,  and  under  it 
you  are  all  working  out  your  own  retribution.  You  are 
doing  it  always,  each  one  for  himself. 

Ye  lovers  of  pleasure  more  than  lovers  of  God  ! — com- 
pelling your  immortal  affections  downward  from  the 
bosom  of  Infinite  Love  to  embrace  the  dead  spectres  of 
sinful  delights — alas !  you  are  drinking  of  the  cup  of  a 
dreadful  delirium.  You  are  sharpening  the  tooth  of  the 
undying  worm,  and  fanning  the  fires  of  the  unquenchable 
burning !  Ye  men  hastening  to  be  rich  in  violation  of 
God's  commandments,  filling  the  chambers  of  the  immor- 
tal soul  with  corruptible  silver  and  gold,  so  that  there  is 
no  room  therein  for  the  grander  things  of  eternity, — alas  ! 
you  are  but  filling  your  bosoms  with  a  ponderous  dust 
that  shall  sink  you  in  drowning  agony  when  your  immor- 
tal bark  founders ! 


INSINCERE    UNBELIEF.  69 

Ye  men  of  sinful  ambition,  weaving  out  of  these 
earthly  thorns  chaplets  that  pierce  the  very  brows  made 
to  wear  heaven's  shining  diadems, — alas !  ye  are  but 
rearing  out  of  the  ruin  of  your  immortal  hopes  a  fiery 
throne,  whereon  an  infernal  despot  shall  lift  over  you 
forever  a  sceptre  of  torment! 

This,  tliis  my  text  tells  you.  Oh,  take  its  truths 
home  with  you.  If  ye  will  not  hear  Moses  and  the 
prophets,  listen  at  least  to  Herod,  the  great  infidel! 

Oh,  thou  imperial  ruler  in  that  oriental  palace — Herod 
crowned  and  throned — who  in  that  path  of  guilty  glad- 
ness hast  driven  your  proud  chariot  over  the  headless 
body  of  God's  murdered  servant,  tell  us  !  tell  these  care- 
less, impenitent  souls — these  dear  children  that  in  wicked 
Avays  are  crucifying  parental  love  ! — these  exulting  youth, 
that  madly  freight  these  poor  bubbles  of  pleasure  with 
their  pearls  of  great  price ! — these  men  and  women,  who 
sport  with  life  and  soul  and  immortality,  as  babes  with 
the  baubles  they  break  !  Oh,  tell  us  all,  if  it  needs  God's 
arbitrary  and  avenging  omnipotence  to  give  to  the  worm 
its  sting,  and  to  the  fire  its  burning?  Speak  out  fully, 
here  and  now,  the  secret  of  the  text's  strange  utterance ! 
Tell  us  if  your  dreams  were  fair  and  bright  on  that  im- 
perial couch  of  sin  !  Tell  us  if  there  came  to  your  palace- 
halls  no  avenging  phantom  from  yonder  prison-cell !  Tell 
us  if  it  rose  not  ever  up  at  your  board  and  your  banquet, 
that  grim  "  head  upon  a  charger  !"  Tell  us  if  you  heard 
not,  amid  all  the  music  of  your  royal  minstrels,  that 
death-cry  of  the  murdered  John !  Tell  us  if  you  saw  it 
not  ever  in  throne-room  and  banquet-hall,  as  if  cut  in 
eternal  marble — that  headless  body  of  God's  prophet ! 

Tell  us  if  yours  was  an  armed  guard,  or  a  marble  wall, 


70  INSINCERE     UNBELIEF. 

or  an  iron  portal,  that  could  shut  away  from  your  inner 
chamber  that  spectral  and  unbidden  guest!  Tell  us  if 
you  piled  on  the  Baptist's  lonely  grave  a  weight  of 
mountains  that  could  keep  the  dead  man  down  when  the 
sorceress — conscience — waved  her  wand  and  muttered 
her  enchantments ! 

Nay — you  have  told  us.  You  do  tell  us  this  day — here 
in  this  simple  yet  most  solemn  story  ! 

We  see  it — a  palace  opened  for  festival,  flooded  with 
light,  music,  fragrance — bright  forms  crossing  its  thresh- 
old, the  gathering  of  prince  and  noble  to  joyous  and 
kingly  revel.  And  now,  as  the  wine  sparkles,  and  the 
music  breathes,  and  the  incense  burns,  we  hear  soft  voices 
speaking  wonderingly  of  the  glorious  deeds  of  a  mighty 
stranger  in  Galilee — in  words  more  enchanting  than  the 
idyls  of  the  harpers — telling  of  demons  conquered,  and 
diseases  healed,  and  the  dead  raised  unto  new  life — of  the 
advent  of  a  Divine  One  to  redeem  a  lost  race,  and  restore 
the  old  Paradise.  But  while  every  other  eye  flashes,  and 
every  other  heart  bounds  in  wondering  delight,  behold 
the  Tetrarch !  What  aileth  him  in  that  hour  of  triumph  ? 
That  brow,  pale  under  its  chaplets — those  joints  loosed 
under  the  kingly  purple — that  eye  strained,  glaring  as 
upon  some  terrible  phantom — those  arms  outstretched,  as 
if  to  repel  some  fiery  shape  from  eternity  ! 

And  what  means  it?  Alas  !  only  this.  What  the  un- 
believer thought  God  could  not  do,  he  hath  done  for 
himself.  He  hath  wrought  out  retribution !  He  hath 
achieved  a  Resurrection !  The  grave  hath  sent  an  unbid- 
den guest  to  the  murderer's  banquet !  "  It  is  John  the 
Baptist — he  is  risen  from  the  dead." 


THE  GOSPEL  CALL. 


"  And  the  Spirit  and  the  Bride  say,  Come.  And  let  him  that  heareth 
say,  Come.  And  let  him  that  is  athirst  come.  And  whosoever  will,  let 
him  take  the  water  of  life  freely." — Eevelation,  xxii.   17. 

There  is  unquestionably  such  a  thing  as  too  much 
exposition  of  the  Sacred  Scriptures.  Addressed  by 
Jehovah  to  a  race  unused  in  the  main  to  critical  and 
metajmysical  investigations,  the  Bible  is  written  in  lan- 
guage so  simple  and  familiar,  that  the  wayfaring  man, 
though  a  fool,  need  not  err  in  its  understanding.  And 
very  much  of  its  beauty  and  force  is  weakened  by  every 
attempt  to  simplify  and  illustrate  it. 

This  is  true  of  our  text.  It  is  a  scripture  whereon 
learned  exposition  might  ingeniously  be  bestowed ;  and 
yet  the  result  of  such  exposition  be  but  an  injury.  Read 
just  as  it  stands  in  its  connections,  and  the  Sabbath- 
school  child  understands  it  to  be — Chris? s  Gospel  call 
unto  all  men  to  come  to  him  and  he  saved. 

The  metaphor  is  Oriental,  yet  its  meaning  is  apparent 
and  most  simple — Christ  the  Great  Saviour  is  repre- 
sented as  a  Fountain,  opened  in  Life's  wilderness,  around 
which  rise  innumerable  voices  of  invitation  :  the  "  Spir- 
its "  (i.  e.  God's)  voices,  in  the  Bible,  in  Providence,  in 
Divine   influences:   the  '■'■Bride's''''   (i.  e.  the  Church's) 


72  THE    GOSPEL     CALL. 

voices,  from  her  ministers,  her  members,  her  ordinances; 
the  voices,  moreover,  of  all  creatures  who  have  seen  the 
living  water  and  the  thirsting  multitude — all  these  voices 
rise  in  one  loud  and  loving  invitation  "  to  take  the  water 
of  life  freely." 

The  text  assumes  two  things,  and  teaches  two  things. 

First,  it  assumes — TJiat  man  by  nature  is  in  a  perish- 
iny  condition.  He  is  represented  here  as  a  traveler  in  a 
desert,  imperiled  with  deadly  thirst.  And  in  this  it 
only  reiterates  a  truth  taught  abundantly  by  man's 
natural  conscience  and  the  whole  "Word  of  God.  That 
man  is  by  nature  a  lost  sinner,  is  indeed  involved  in  the 
very  existence  of  the  Bible — for  what  need  of  a  revealed 
plan  of  salvation,  if  the  object  of  the  revelation  be  not 
utterly  lost  ? 

And  to  this  Bible  truth  man's  natural  conscience  is 
universally  responsive.  We  are  always  sure  on  this 
point,  that  we  address  no  man  who  feels  not  at  times 
conscious  of  his  depravity,  and  of  his  need  of  pardon 
and  salvation.  No  hardihood  of  infidelity  is  able  to 
silence  the  whispers  of  this  instinct  of  guilt.  And 
never  has  the  adventurous  voyager  over  unknown  seas 
lighted  upon  solitary  and  secluded  islands,  whose  in- 
habitants were  not  found  agonizing  with  this  sense  of 
sin — this  fever  thirst  for  the  waters  of  salvation.  All 
the  false  worship  of  the  heathen  world  was,  and  is,  only 
the  soul's  practical  expression  of  its  earnest  desire  for  a 
redemption  from  the  stings  of  a  guilty  conscience,  and 
the  terrible  agonies  of  eternal  death.  On  this  point 
reason  and  revelation  arc  at  one — That  all  men  by 
nature  are  condemned  sinners ;  poor  pilgrims  in  a  desert, 
pining  and  perishing  with  an  immortal  thirst. 


TEE     GOSPEL     GALL.  73 

Meanwhile,  the  text  takes  also  for  granted — That  in 
the  Gospel  of  Christ,  and  in  it  alone,  is  there  for  sinful 
man  a  way  of  salvation. 

Christ  Jesus  is  truly  and  only  "  the  water  of  life?'' 
He  is  the  source  and  spring  even  of  physical  and  natu- 
ral life.  All  things  that  are,  are  parts  of  his  media- 
torial kingdom.  The  soul  itself,  which  we  term  im- 
mortal, has  no  inherent  and  essential  immortality,  and 
would  sink  into  non-existence  but  for  his  mediatorial 
upholding.  And  all  created  objects  surrounding  the 
soul,  are  kept  in  being  only  by  Divine  sustentation  ;  so 
that  should  Jehovah-Jesus  cease  to  be,  the  entire  uni- 
verse would  sink  at  once  into  that  nothingness  whence 
at  his  creating  fiat  it  at  first  emerged. 

But  in  a  sense  special  and  peculiar  is  Christ  Jesus  the 
fountain  of  spiritual  life.  The  great  moral  or  spiritual 
want  of  man's  nature  has  a  threefold  element. 

There  is  a  want  of  Knowledge — a  want  of  any  thing 
but  conjecture,  alike  as  to  the  fact  and  the  fate  of  im- 
mortality— so  that  living  on  this  secluded  isle  of  being, 
and  about  to  loose  from  thes_  mortal  moorings,  and 
stand  out  for  eternity,  man's  desire  to  know  through 
what  regions  of  sunshine  or  storm  may  lie  his  broad 
voyagings — to  know  what  shall  be  his  future — that 
agonizing  desire  may  be  well  called  thirst. 

Then  there  is  a  want  of  Power.  For  though  Heaven, 
in  all  its  glory,  should  come  out  as  a  world  visible  to 
the  senses  in  the  firmament ;  still,  unto  the  up-looking 
mortal,  possessed  of  no  organs  whereby  to  mount  from 
this  lowly  earth,  and  achieve  entrance  to  its  beatitudes, 
the  longing  for  stixmg  wings  to  ascend  those  far  heights 
would  be  of  a  strength  and  intensity  to  be  well  called  thirst. 


74  THE    GOSPEL     CALL. 

Moreover,  there  is  a  want  of  Preparation.  For  if 
you  were  to  bear  a  human  spirit,  unsanctified,  up  at 
once  to  that  Paradise  of  Righteousness,  and,  with  all 
its  humbling  sense  of  its  own  un-meetness,  usher  it  amid 
the  pomps  and  the  purities  of  heaven,  then  verily,  as  a 
blind  man  amid  radiant  landscapes,  or  a  deaf  man  amid 
ravishing  harmonies,  or  a  beggar  in  his  rags  amid  the 
purple  and  gold  of  a  monarch's  pavilion,  would  it  pine 
under  a  conscious  want  of  preparation  and  adaptation. 
So  that  soul  would  be  tortured  with  an  agonizing  lone:- 
ing  for  sanctification  and  holiness,  which  may  well  be 
called  thirst. 

And  we  say,  this  whole  threefold  want  of  man's 
nature  is  satisfied  at  once  and  forever  in  the  redemp- 
tion of  Christ.  Knoioledge  is  given  in  the  revelation  of 
Immortality  and  Life  brought  to  light  in  the  Gospel — 
Poicer  is  given,  to  ascend  the  skies,  and  achieve  entrance 
through  a  Mediator's  merits  into  the  City  of  Holiness. 
And  Preparation  is  given — for  washed  in  the  blood  of 
the  Lamb,  the  robes  which  the  ransomed  spirit  wears  are 
lustrous  and  pure  as  the  robes  of  the  archangel.  And 
supplying  thus  every  want  of  the  immortal  nature, 
Christ  may  well  be  spoken  of  as  the  '■'•Fountain  of  the 
Water  of  Life"  quenching  forever  in  the  stricken  spirit 
its  immortal  thirst. 

Christ  Jesus  is  to  a  sinful  soul  the  alone  ground  of 
salvation.  In  him  are  all  our  sources  and  springs  of 
blessedness.  From  him  issue  all  the  streams  making 
glad  the  sin-sick — the  stream  of  Cleansing  Blood — the 
stream  of  Justifying  Grace — the  stream  of  Adopting 
Love — the  stream  of  Sanctifying  Power — the  stream  of 
Iloly   Peace — the    stream    of   Gospel   Ordinances — the 


TUB    GOSPEL     CALL.  75 

stream  of  Divine  Fellowship — the  stream  of  Heavenly 
Consolation.  Yea,  and  in  those  high  realms  of  glory, 
whercunto  the  ransomed  soul  ascends,  all  the  raptures 
of  the  Blest  have  their  springs  in  him.  "  For  the  very 
river  of  the  water  of  life  proceedeth  out  of  the  throne 
of  God  and  of  the  Lamb."  So  that  whatever  spiritual 
blessedness  is  vouchsafed  to  the  child  of  God — the 
blessedness  experienced  in  his  earthly  life,  or  the  bless- 
edness aspired  to  in  the  faith  of  a  transepulchral  immor- 
tality— all  this  blessedness,  represented  in  the  text  by 
the  figure  of  sweet  water,  has  its  springs  and  sources 
only  in  Christ. 

The  Gospel  of  Christ  meets  the  soul  of  man  as  a  poor, 
perishing  wanderer  in  life's  wilderness,  and  leads  him  at 
once  to  the  fountain  of  living  waters.  He  drinks,  and 
is  refreshed.  He  drinks,  and  is  comforted.  He  drinks, 
and  is  purified.  He  drinks,  and  is  saved.  And  now, 
with  his  sins  forgiven,  and  his  heart  renewed,  he  walks, 
even  on  earth,  in  Christ's  righteousness  a  conqueror,  and 
more  than  a  conqueror.  He  comes  to  the  Jordan  of 
death,  and  its  dark  flood  rolls  backward,  and  he  passes 
over  with  songs  of  victory.  Seraphs  meet  him  on  the 
heavenly  shore.  They  clothe  him  in  white  raiment. 
The  crown,  the  harp,  the  throne  of  immortality  are  his 
in  the  city  and  paradise  of  God.  His  are  forever  "  the 
things  to  come"  immeasurable,  unutterable — " the  far 
more  exceeding  and  eternal  tceight  of  glory."  And  doing 
all  this  for  him,  and  much  more,  for  which  mortal  man 
hath  no  thought,  and  no  utterance,  oh,  how  fittingly  and 
how  beautifully  is  this  Gospel  set  forth,  as  unto  pining 
and  perishing  humanity — '•'•The  Water  of  Life." 

These  two  things   the  text  takes  for  granted — That 


76  TUB    GOSPEL     CALL. 

man  is  by  nature  athirst — and  That  Christ  Jesus  relieves 
him. 

Then  there  are  two  other  things  that  the  text  mani- 
festly teaches  : — 

First.     Tlie  universality  of  the  Gospel  offer. 

" Let  him  that  is  athirst  come"  (i.  e.)  Let  every  one 
come  who  is  sinful  and  perishing.  And,  that  no  man 
might  limit  the  offer,  by  interpreting  the  word  "  thirst  " 
to  mean  a  supernatural  and  spiritual  desire,  excited  in 
the  soul  by  extraordinary  grace,  it  is  added — "And 
whosoever  will  let  him  come"  Yea,  and  as  if  to  terrify 
any  bigoted  soul  from  daring  to  put  any  limit  to  the 
fullness  of  an  offered  salvation,  it  is  added  again,  "If  any 
man  shall  take  from  the  words  of  the  booh  of  this 
prophecy,  God  shcdl  take  away  his  part  out  of  the  book 
of  life." 

And  yet,  alas  !  in  full  face  of  this  terrible  anathema, 
mortal  men  have  dared  to  rear  bulwarks  of  bigotry 
round  about  this  precious  fountain  of  the  living  water. 
Some  men  build  them  out  of  the  mysterious  attributes 
and  operations  of  the  Divine  nature.  They  tell  us  that 
God  is  a  sovereign,  with  eternal  and  immutable  pur- 
poses ;  and  that,  therefore,  the  decree  of  election  is  a 
reason  why  some  men  will  be  lost.  But  they  say  all 
this  falsely.  To  declare  that  God  is  a  sovereign,  with 
eternal  and  immutable  purposes,  is  indeed  only  to  affirm 
the  bald  truism,  that  God  is  a  God.  But,  sovereign  and 
immutable  as  he  is,  and  must  be,  yet  God  himself  every- 
where declares  that  there  is  no  hinderance  to  any  man's 
salvation,  save  the  man's  own  selfish  and  obstinate  will. 

AVhen,  theologically,  we  predicate  simplicity  of  the 
Divine  nature,  it  is  implied  that  God's  pleasure  and  God's 


THE    GOSPEL     GALL.  77 

purpose  are  synonymous  terms.  And  when  God  declares 
that  he  hath  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  a  sinner,  he  de- 
clares as  well  that  he  hath  no  purpose  which  involves 
the  death  of  that  sinner. 

We  question  not  in  all  its  fullness  the  doctrine  of 
God's  sovereignty.  We  glory  in  that  doctrine.  "We 
glory  in  the  iron  theology  of  John  Calvin,  because  it  was 
Christ's  theology,  and  because  it  was  Paul's  ;  because, 
indeed,  it  is  the  only  philosophic  stand-point  between 
Faith  and  blank  Atheism.  But  then  true  Calvinism 
takes  no  greater  guard  of  the  Divine  sovereignty  than 
God  himself  takes  of  it.  It  leaves  the  great  and  mys- 
terious truth  of  Divine  decrees  safe  in  the  Divine  and 
Omnipotent  keeping.  And  finding  it  written  in  the 
record,  as  one  of  God's  fixed  and  eternal  purposes, — 
that  without  restriction  or  limitation,  "whosoever  will 
may  take  the  water  of  life  freely" — no  true  Calvinist 
ever  thinks  to  break  in  pieces  the  adamant  of  the  Divine 
nature,  that  he  may  rear,  out  of  its  fragments,  muni- 
tions of  eternal  rock  round  about  the  fountain  of  the  life 
everlasting.  God  says  those  living  waters  flow  freely 
unto  all  men.  And  the  man  who  dares  use  any  Divine 
attribute  as  an  obstacle  to  any  man's  salvation,  perverts 
God's  own  truth,  and  makes  God  a  liar. 

Meanwhile  other  men  build  these  bulwarks  round  the 
"  living  waters  "  out  of  their  own  wisdom  and  philoso- 
phy. There  is  an  exclusive  and  sectarian  bigotry — not 
confined  to  any  one  Christian  denomination,  but  in  a 
measure,  at  least,  common  to  them  all — which  talks 
rather  of  "  the  Church,"  than  of  Christ  crucified  ;  of 
sacraments,  rather  than  of  the  Sacrifice ;  which  prac- 
tically  regards   the   grace   of    God   as   flowing    in   the 


78  THE    GOSPEL     CALL. 

channels  of  its  own  exclusive  ordinances,  and  the  healing 
power  of  the  living  water,  as  abiding  rather  in  the 
earthen  chalice  than  in  the  sparkling  spring.  To  hear 
these  men  talk  of  ordinations,  and  confessions,  and  suc- 
cessions, and  baptisms,  one  would  think  that  this  foun- 
tain of  salvation  were,  like  a  mineral  spring  at  a  watering 
place,  inclosed,  and  appropriated,  and  surrounded  by 
liveried  water-dippers,  so  that  the  soul  that  will  not 
drink  from  these  particular  cups  must  needs  perish  in 
agony. 

And  the  abomination  of  this  last  thing  is  worse  than 
the  first.  Tell  me  that  God's  eternal  decree  shuts  me 
away  from  salvation,  and  I  could  better  be  reconciled  to 
it.  The  grandeur  of  the  Eternal  One,  as  with  his  majestic 
sceptre  he  waves  me  back  from  the  fountain,  would  give 
dignity  to  destruction.  But  to  be  repulsed  from  the 
sweet  waters  by  a  poor  mortal  gesture ;  to  lose  the  heal- 
ing draught  because  a  spider's  web  is  spun  by  the  well- 
side  ;  to  be  driven  backward  upon  God's  uncovenanted 
mercies  by  some  fair-lipped  champion  of  successions  and 
baptisms;  to  die  of  thirst  in  full  view  of  the  swelling 
fountain,  because  the  cup  wherewith  I  would  draw  and 
drink  hath  not  the  blazon  of  a  shibboleth — oh,  this  is 
intolerable ! 

To  be  told  that  salvation  is  to  be  found  only,  or  even 
especially,  in  the  Presbyterian  communion,  or  the  Meth- 
odist communion,  or  the  Episcopal  communion,  or  the 
Baptist  communion,  or  especially  or  only  in  any  or  all  of 
them — this  is  intolerable  blasphemy  ! 

Why,  what  is  the  Church  ?  The  fountain  of  living 
water  ?  No,  sirs  !  An  inclosure  round  about  that  foun- 
tain ?     No,  sirs  !     The  Church,  all  together,  or  in  its 


THE     GOSPEL     GALL.  79 

distinct  denominations,  is  only  a  company  of  thirsty  men, 
-who  have  come  to  drink,  each  man  for  himself,  of  that 
blessed  fountain,  and  whose  only  office  is  that  of  the 
"  Bride,"  to  say  "  Come — come.''''  Is  Baptism  salvation  ? 
No,  sirs  !  Is  the  Lord's  Supper  salvation  ?  No,  sirs ! 
Are  Church  ordinances  salvation  ?  No,  sirs !  Christ 
crucified  is  salvatioti !  Let  me  meet  a  poor  heathen 
in  the  wilderness,  who  never  heard  of  a  church  or  of 
a  sacrament,  and  to  whom  in  his  circumstances  a  sacra- 
ment were  impossible,  and  as  I  tell  him  the  story  of 
Christ  crucified  for  sinners,  I  say,  "  Repent  and  believe, 
and  thou  shalt  be  saved  forever." 

Ah,  ye  troublers  of  men's  consciences,  about  the  poor 
mint  and  anise  of  rites  and  ceremonies,  go  up  to  Mount 
Calvary,  and  shut  away  if  you  can,  if  you  dare,  that 
dying  malefactor,  unto  God's  uncovenanted  mercies,  be- 
cause he  sat  not  at  your  board,  and  went  not  forth  to 
your  baptism,  and  the  forgiving  look  of  your  glorious 
Redeemer  will  palsy  the  tongue  that  utters  the  blas- 
phemy !  Church  ordinances  may  be  indeed  channels  for 
the  flowing  of  God's  grace,  but  Christ  crucified  is  the 
fountain,  "and  whosoever  will  may  take  the  icater  of 
life  freely.'''' 

"  Whosoever  will"  No  matter  how  unlovely ;  no  mat- 
ter how  lost.  Wherever,  amid  Gospel  ordinances,  or  in 
lonely  and  heathen  separation  from  all  church  privileges 
— wherever  there  is  a  human  body  wrapt  round  a  human 
spirit — wherever  there  is  a  pulse  to  bound,  and  a  lip  to 
thirst,  and  an  ear  to  hear  the  voice  of  the  Spirit — limit- 
less as  the  undying  love  of  the  Saviour  that  opened  it, 
there  flows  the  priceless  fountain  of  salvation  unto  the 
thirst  of  the  world.     And  woe,  woe  be  unto  him — who, 


80  THE    GOSPEL     GALL. 

to  magnify  falsely  a  Divine  attribute,  or  to  glorify  the 
bulwarks  of  a  creed,  or  to  guard  with  factitious  sanctity 
the  sepulchres  of  a  Pharisaic  church — woe  be  unto  him; 
;i  woe  written  in  the  blood  of  souls,  and  breathed  in 
dread  anathema  by  heavenly  voices;  yea,  the  woe  of 
having  his  part  taken  from  the  book  of  life,  and  of  hav- 
ing added  unto  him  the  plagues  written  in  the  book  of 
this  prophecy — so  terrible  a  woe  be  unto  him  who  dares, 
with  a  human  bigotry,  to  come  between  any  sin-sick  soul 
and  a  crucified  Saviour,  or  to  take  any  thing  from  the 
absolute  fullness  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ. 

Having  opened  a  living  fountain  for  a  thirsting  world, 
the  Spirit  utters  the  cry,  and  the  Bride  echoes  it,  and 
every  one  that  hears  afar  off  the  glad  sound  takes  up  the 
invitation,  and  extends  it  further.  And  it  circles  the 
round  world,  and  is  borne  along  the  waters,  and  wafted 
by  the  winds,  through  the  gates  of  great  cities,  and 
athwart  wide  continents,  and  into  the  hamlets  of  the 
hills,  and  the  lone  cabins  of  the  wilderness — and  it  rings 
out  in  every  chamber  as  an  angel's  voice,  and  startles 
every  heart  as  an  alarm-cry  from  eternity — that  same 
blessed  deliverance,  everywhere  and  only,  "Let  him  that 
is  athirst  come,  and  whosoever  will,  let  him  take  the 
water  of  life  freely.'''' 

Meanwhile — secondly,  the  text  teaches  the  absolute 
freexess  of  the  Gospel  offer. 

Free,  we  mean,  as  to  its  reception  by  the  creature — not 
free  in  the  sense  of  resulting  from  God's  natural  attribute 
of  benevolence.  Though  it  may  not  be  for  us  to  under- 
stand why  God  could  not  pardon  sin  without  an  atone- 
ment, yet  this  fact  is  a  simple  and  explicit  revelation — 
there  is  no  salvation  for  a  guilty  soul  but  in  Christ's 


THE    GOSPEL     GALL.  81 

great  sacrifice.  God  can  not  be  to  us  in  this  sense  freely 
benevolent  as  he  is  to  unfallen  angels.  Love  to  man  as 
a  condemned  sinner,  flows  only  through  the  channels  of 
an  appointed  Mediatorship.  The  covenant  blessings  for 
his  Church  are  unto  Christ,  not  free  favors,  but  a  pur- 
chased possession.  By  his  sorrows  we  are  comforted  ! 
By  his  stripes  we  are  healed !  The  Bock  whence  the 
life-stream  bursts,  is  a  smitten  and  a  shivered  Bock ! 
Our  salvation  cost  Christ  Jesus  a  heavenly  crown  and 
kingdom — a  descent  from  an  eternal  enthronement — a 
humiliation  unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross.  But 
to  man  it  is  offered  freely,  "  without  money  and  without 
price." 

God  asks  no  man  to  make  an  atonement  for  his  own 
sins.  That  atonement  is  made  already.  God  requires 
no  austerities,  no  penances,  no  pilgrimages,  to  secure  his 
favor.  Salvation  is  brought  to  our  very  door,  and  offered 
free  as  the  waters  of  earth  and  the  air  of  heaven.  The 
fountain  hath  been  opened  by  a  Divine  hand,  and  the 
streams  gush  forth  brightly,  and  fair  forms  stand  by  the 
well-side,  and  unto  every  poor  wanderer  in  life's  hot 
desert  sounds  out  the  glad  cry, "  Come,  take  the  water  of 
life  freely.'1'' 

Yes,  and  if  taken  at  all,  it  must  be  taken  freely.  And 
here  all  false  religions,  and  all  human  perversions  of 
the  true  religion,  are  fearfully  at  fault.  They  send 
their  disciples  to  the  Divine  fountain  of  grace,  in  one 
way  or  another,  to  purchase  the  living  water.  To  the 
carnal  heart,  in  its  pride  and  vainglory,  it  is  distasteful  to 
receive  as  a  free  gift  the  soul's  salvation ;  and  seeking 
to  commingle  its  own  merits  with  the  righteousness 
of  Christ,  it  perverts  Christianity  into  "  another  gospel." 

4* 


82  THE    GOSPEL     GALL. 

There  is  a  religion  of  forms,  and  there  is  a  religion 
of  faith — a  religion  of  piety,  and  a  religion  of  Pharisa- 
ism— a  religion  of  penitence,  and  a  religion  of  penances 
— a  religion  of  ritualism,  and  a  religion  of  righteous- 
ness— a  religion  of  the  crucifix,  and  a  religion  of  the 
cross.  And  these  are  not  one.  And  in  this 'they  differ 
— the  one  is  a  religion  of  free  gift  and  grace  /  the  other 
is  a  religion  of  merit  and  purchase-money . 

All  false  worship  is  the  offering  of  some  poor  human 
equivalent  for  the  living  water.  The  monster-myste- 
ries of  heathenism — the  smoke  of  altars,  the  clouds  of 
burnt  incense,  the  blood  of  tortured  victims ;  the  pomps 
of  the  old  Pharisaism — the  phylacteries,  and  the  tithes 
of  cummin  and  anise,  and  the  street-prayers ;  the 
masses  and  mummeries  of  cowled  and  cloistered  priests, 
that  make  up  the  haggard  superstition  of  the  Tiber ; 
the  vaunting  self-righteousness,  that  in  the  true  Church 
of  God  thinks  complacently  of  its  own  good  works,  as 
antecedents  of  justification — are  each  and  all  but  the 
poor  devices  of  the  carnal  heart  to  merit  salvation ;  the 
false  coin  of  a  spiritual  currency  wherewith  unhumbled 
man  would  buy  of  the  great  God  the  living  water. 

But  away  with  them!  away  with  them!  God  will 
have  none  of  it.  Jesus  Christ  will  not  allow  human 
copartnership  in  the  work  of  his  sacrifice.  My  poor 
tears  and  blood  can  not  commingle  meritoriously  with 
the  blood  and  tears  of  the  great  Lamb  of  Eternity.  If 
I  come  to  drink  of  the  living  water,  it  must  be  with  no 
price  in  my  hand  to  purchase  the  blessing.  Jehovah 
will  be,  to  the  end,  a  glorious  Sovereign  in  salvation. 

AVhat  he  giveth,  he  givethf  All  thought  of  human 
merit  dies  at  once  and  forever  amid   the  shadows  of 


THE    GOSPEL     CALL.  83 

Calvary.  To  stay  away  from  Christ  till  you  have  done 
something  to  secure  his  regards,  and  prepare  yourself 
for  salvation,  is  to  reject  Christ  forever.  You  may  sell 
your  Lord  for  thirty  pieces  of  silver!  but  buy  him,  oh, 
you  can  not  with  the  treasures  of  a  universe  !  "  Who- 
soever is  athirst  may  take,  nay,  must  take  the  water  of 
life  freely." 

These,  then,  are  the  simple  and  obvious  lessons  which 
the  text  teaches.  Such,  my  hearers,  is  the  Gospel  call — 
universal  in  its  offer — free  in  its  conditions — glorious  in 
its  ineffable  and  everlasting  blessedness.  Here  flows 
from  the  smitten  Rock  a  fountain  of  peace,  and  joy,  and 
salvation,  and  life  everlasting.  And  who  wonders,  that, 
standing  by  its  heavenly  streams,  and  beholding  the 
multitudes  of  a  thirsting  race  perishing  in  the  wilder- 
ness— who  wonders  that  the  Spirit  lifts  up  the  voice, 
and  the  Bride  lifts  up  the  voice,  and  he  that  heareth 
lifts  up  the  voice,  till  the  earth  resounds  with  the  enrap- 
turing invitation — "Come,  take  the  water  of 'life  freely  /" 

Now,  in  conclusion,  let  me  press  two  points  of  per- 
sonal application.  The  first  is  to  the  heart  and  con- 
science of  the  professing  Christian.  Hark  !  "And  let 
him  that  heareth  say,  come.''''  Let  him  say,  come.  This 
text  makes  you  all  heralds  of  salvation.  Ah  !  this  work 
of  calling  sinners  to  repentance  is  not  the  work  alone  of 
an  ordained  ministry.  Under  the  Gospel  every  saved 
soul  becomes,  by  the  great  law  of  influences,  a  centre 
of  salvation.  Every  light  kindled  by  God  must  radiate 
light  through  the  surrounding  darkness.  The  simple 
fact,  that  you  have  drawn  water  in  joy  from  the  wells 
of  salvation  must  constrain  you,  by  a  very  law  of  you. 
nature,  to  lead  others  in  their  thirst  to  the  blessed  fountain 


84  THE    GOSPEL     CALL. 

It  is  so  even  in  natural  things.  Behold  that  company 
of  Israelites,  thirsting  in  the  Exodus.  See,  amid  the 
burning  sands  of  the  desert  the  fainting  thousands  of 
the  tribes  !  Note  the  glassy  hut  fierce  eye — the  sunken 
cheek — the  quivering  limb  !  Hark  to  the  sob — the  moan 
— the  wild  cry — the  gasping  breath  !  But  look  again  ! 
The  great  Lawgiver  hath  smitten  the  rock — and  forth 
in  living  streams  foams  and  sparkles  the  cool,  bright 
water !  Ah  now,  how  they  spring  from  their  agony, 
and  rush  to  the  stream-side  ! 

See  that  mother !  With  the  strength  of  a  giant  she 
cleaves  her  way  to  the  fountain — she  revives  her  fainting 
life  with  one  full,  deep  draught,  and  then  back,  swifter 
than  she  came,  to  bear  the  life-cup  to  her  dying  child  ! 

And  there  again,  behold  that  Hebrew  girl !  Timid 
in  her  shrinking  beauty  in  all  the  past  marchings  of  the 
tribes — but  now,  rushing  in  the  might  of  a  mailed  war- 
rior to  the  sparkling  spring,  that  she  may  bear  back  to 
her  fainting  mother's  lip  the  life-giving  draught  of  that 
bright,  cool  water ! 

Such  is  human  nature — so  unselfish  and  noble  even  in 
its  sinful  ruins.  And  shall  that  nature  regenerate  and 
redeemed,  show  itself  more  selfish  in  its  joys  of  salvation  ? 
Can  you,  oh,  can  you,  ye  ransomed  ones,  can  you  taste 
the  blessed  water  from  the  eternal  Rock,  and  strive  not, 
with  all  the  might  that  is  in  you,  to  bring  the  imperiled 
and  beloved  to  the  fountain,  that  they  may  drink  and 
live  ? 

Ah  me !  you  were  dying  of  immortal  thirst  in  life's 
great  desert,  when  upon  your  ear  fell  a  heavenly  voice, 
telling  of  living  water;  and  you  rose  from  the  death- 
spell,  and  struggled  to  the  fountain,  and  drank,  and  live 


THE    GOSPEL     CALL.  85 

And  now  to  yon  comes  the  commandment — -"  Let  him 
that  hear eth  say,  Come.''''  Oh,  beloved  members  of  this 
Church,  awake  to  your  high  ministry !  Tell  me  not 
that  you  can  not  speak  to  impenitent  men  about  Christ 
and  salvation.  Methinks,  if  you  are  saved  sinners  you 
can  not  keep  silence.  Methinks  your  grateful  heart  will 
"  sing  to  the  well,"  exultingly  and  ever,  as  the  freed  bird 
sin^s  to  the  air  and  sunshine.  You  have  heard  the  olad 
sound,  and  believed  it,  and  live  in  it — "  and  let  him  that 
heareth  say,  Come,  and  take  the  water  of  life  freely.'" 

The  other  point  of  personal  appeal  is  to  the  impenitent 
sinner. 

This  is  to-day  my  commission.  Hark  !  hark !  I  hear 
it !  The  Spirit's  voice  and  the  Bride's  saying — "Let  him 
that  heareth  say,  Come.''''  And  as  one  that  heareth,  I 
take  up  the  loving  call,  and  cry — "  Whosoever  will,  let 
him  take  the  water  of  life  freely." 

Oh,  my  message  to  you  is  a  sweet  message.  We  have 
to-day  no  terrors.  We  speak  not  of  the  wrath  of  God 
poured  out  without  mixture  into  your  cup  of  trembling. 
We  speak  only  of  bright  water  from  a  heavenly  spring. 
"  Come,  take  the  water  of  life  freely.'*'' 

Come  !  Come  !  What  say  you  to  this  gracious  call  ? 
Do  you  answer — "  Oh  no,  I  am  not  athirst.  I  do  not 
need  the  living  water.  I  have  no  unquenched  desire ; 
no  agonizing  yearning."  Ah,  but  I  know  better.  The 
very  haste  with  which  you  rush  to  earth's  unsatisfying 
things — as  poor  pilgrims  to  the  mocking  ■mirage  of  the 
desert — disproves  all  your  boasting.  You  are  athirst. 
In  the  depths  of  your  own  natures  you  are  conscious  of  a 
mighty  want.  The  world  does  not  satisfy.  The  im- 
mortal spirit  within  pleads  piteously  for  better  things. 


86  TEE    GOSPEL     GALL. 

That  is  thirst.  Your  heart  faints  under  earthly  bereave- 
ments. You  long-  for  pleasures  that  do  not  fade — for 
riches  that  are  incorruptible — for  friendships  that  deceive 
not.  That  is  thirst !  You  are  afraid  of  death — of  the 
judgment — of  eternity.  That  is  thirst !  Alas,  I  know 
it,  for  I  have  stood  in  the  green  places,  where  life's  wa- 
ter sparkled  brightliest  to  mortal  lips,  and  found  the  cup 
dashed  with  wormwood,  and  longed  the  while  for  water 
from  a  purer  spring.  And  I  know — spite  of  all  your 
songs  and  seemings  of  gladness — that  you  are  parched 
and  pining  with  an  immortal  thirst.  Come,  then,  oh, 
come  to  the  living  water ! 

Or  do  you  say — "  Oh  no,  thirsty  as  I  am,  I  do  not  be- 
lieve Christ  Jesus  can  satisfy  me.  Mount  Calvary  with 
its  darkness,  and  its  cross,  and  its  expiring  victim — ah, 
this  does  not  look  to  me  like  a  green  spot  in  the  desert, 
with  palms  and  bright  water  !"  But  I  answer — You  do 
not  know,  for  you  have  not  tasted,  that  the  Lord  is  gra- 
cious. Take  testimony  unto  the  preciousness  of  the 
Saviour.  Ask  the  dying  thief!  Ask  Stephen,  amid  his 
martyr-visions  of  glory !  Ask  John,  amid  the  magnifi- 
cent revelations  of  Patmos  !  Ask  Paul,  in  the  rapture 
of  his  exodus  to  the  eternal !  Nay,  just  try  it  for  your- 
selves! Just  come  to  the  fountain  !  Stand  here  under 
the  cross  of  my  dying  Lord,  and  drink  one  full,  deep 
draught  of  the  water  of  salvation  ;  and  then  if  it  seem 
bitter  to  the  soul,  dash  the  heavenly  cup  to  the  dust, 
and  go  back  to  your  sins  again  ! 

But  do  you  say — "  Well,  give  me  the  cup,  then.  I 
am  ready  to  drink  it.  I  am  willing  to  be  a  Christian. 
I  really  wish  I  was  a  Christian.  Bring  me  the  living 
water!"     But   I  answer,  No.     You  must  come  to  the 


TEE    GOSPEL     GALL.  87 

fountain.  To  come  to  Christ  is  to  turn  from  your  sins 
in  penitence,  and  cast  yourselves  in  faith  on  the  merits 
of  your  Redeemer.  And  this  you  must  do  for  your- 
selves. This  no  creature  can  do  for  you.  God  has 
opened  the  fountain,  and  issued  the  invitation  ;  and  you 
must  rise  up  from  the  dust,  and  struggle  to  the  water. 
Come,  come  to  Christ  Jesus  ! 

But  you  say — "  Must  I  not  be  born  again,  in  order  to 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ?"  And  I  answer — 
certainly  you  must.  But  regeneration  is  not  your  work. 
Faith  is  your  work — regeneration  is  God's  work.  Be- 
lieving is  something  to  be  done — the  new  birth  is  some- 
thing to  be  experienced.  Believing  and  repenting  is 
coming  to  the  water — but  regeneration  and  sanctifica- 
tion  are  streams  from  the  fountain ;  parts  of  God's  free 
and  glorious  gift  of  the  living  water.  Your  part  is  to 
believe — God's  part  is  to  regenerate.  Do  your  part,  and 
you  will  find  his  is  done  already.  Come,  then,  oh,  come 
to  the  living  water  ! 

Oh,  this  blessed  invitation!  Why  this  shrinking  from 
the  Gospel  call,  as  if  it  were  a  summons  unto  agony  and 
conflict  ?  It  is  only  the  offer,  unto  a  thirsting  spirit,  of 
the  cup  of  salvation — only  a  call  to  cast  away  the  poor 
rags  of  self-righteousness,  and  be  clothed  in  Christ's 
spotless  and  lustrous  garments.  Only  to  turn  from 
the  beggarly  elements  of  this  world,  and  receive,  without 
money  and  without  price,  "a  far  more  exceeding  and 
eternal  weight  of  glory."  Then  come,  oh,  come,  to 
the  living  water  ! 

Hark  how  this  invitation  comes  breathed  in  blessed 
voices — "  The  Spirit  and  the  Bride  say  come."  The 
Spirit.     The  God.     The  great  and  glorious  One  who 


88  THE    GOSPEL     GALL. 

inhabitcth  eternity.  The  gracious  Father— the  atoning 
Son — the  applying  Spirit.  The  mighty  God  speaks. 
Not  in  a  voice  of  terror.  Not  words  of  wrathful  doom 
and  abandonment.  But  in  that  loving  tone,  that  sweet 
and  gentle  word,  wherewith  a  watchful  mother  calls  her 
wearied,  wayward  child — "  Come  !  Come !  Come  !" 

" And  the  Bride  says,  Come."  Ah,  the  Bride !  The 
Lamb's  wife.  The  Church  triumphal  and  glorified. 
You  find  fault  often  with  the  earthly  Church  ;  and  some- 
times justly.  Our  ways  are  unequal,  our  gai-ments  are 
not  white,  our  voices  woo  not  mightily  with  their  sad 
discords.  But  the  Bride  calls  !  The  triumphant  Church 
in  glory — the  redeemed  who  have  put  on  their  immor- 
tality. That  sainted  father — that  ransomed  mother — 
that  blessed  sister — that  redeemed  child!  Those  risen 
and  raptured  spirits  call  you.  Oh,  look  up  from  these 
lowly  graves,  poor  mourner  !  They  are  yonder  in  the 
green  fields,  by  the  stream  of  life  in  heaven.  And  as 
they  go  forth  along  the  river-side,  and  drink  of  its  living 
water,  they  are  thinking  of  you — they  are  waiting  for 
you.  And  their  blessed  voices  come  down  lovingly 
on  these  earthly  airs — "  Come,  come,  come,  take  the  wa- 
ter of  life  freely." 

Oh,  what  a  call  is  this !  The  Spirit  and  the  Bride 
call,  and  he  that  heareth  calls.  The  voices  of  all  God's 
bright  and  blessed  things  take  up  the  utterance.  The 
dear  ones  in  your  earthly  homes — -mother,  and  sister, 
and  brother,  and  child — whose  names  are  written  in  the 
Lamb's  book  of  life,  cry,  "  Come,  come  !"  And  the 
Church  below,  Christ's  witness  unto  the  world,  in  all 
her  ordinances  and  utterances,  cries,  "  Come,  come !" 
And  the  Church  above,  with  the  rustling  of  white  robes, 


THE    GOSPEL     CALL.  89 

and  the  sweeping  of  golden  harps,  cries,  "  Come,  come  !" 
And  the  angels  of  heaven,  lo  !  rank  above  rank,  the  im- 
mortal Principalities,  as  they  circle  the  eternal  throne, 
they  have  caught  up  the  sound,  and  cry,  "  Come,  come  !" 
And  the  Triune  and  Everlasting  God — the  Father,  the 
elder  Brother,  the  almighty  Comforter — says,  "  Come, 
come  !"  And,  behold,  the  battlements  of  the  fair  city 
are  thronged  with  a  great  crowd  of  witnesses  ;  and  upon 
the  ear  of  every  fainting,  dying  soul  in  this  earthly 
wilderness,  breaks  the  glad  call  of  the  rejoicing  universe, 
"  Come,  come,  come  !"  "  And  the  /Spirit  and  the  Bride 
say,  Come  ;  and  let  him  that  heareth  say,  Come  ;  and  let 
him  that  is  athirst  come,  and  tohosoever  will,  let  him  take 
the  water  of  life  freely  1 " 

Would  to  God  I  could  make  this  matter  of  the  fullness 
and  freeness  of  salvation  clear  to  you  !  "We  often  meet 
men,  in  these  times  of  revival,  who,  agonizing  under 
convictions  of  sin,  ask  the  prayers  of  God's  people  in 
their  behalf,  while  they  persistently  refuse  to  believe  in 
Christ  Jesus.  And  what  is  it  they  wish  us  to  pray  for  ? 
What  is  it  they  would  have  God  do  for  them  ?  Why, 
look !  There  is  a  gushing  fountain  in  the  wilderness. 
And  close  by  the  well-side  kneels  a  poor,  thirsting  pil- 
grim, doing  what  ?  Drinking  ?  No,  indeed.  But 
praying  Almighty  Grace  to  quench  his  death-thirst  ! 
"  Oh,"  he  says,  "  men  and  brethren,  pray  for  me  that 
God  will  take  away  my  great  anguish !"  But  what  says 
his  God  ?  "  Come,  come,  come,  take  the  water  of  life 
freely." 

And  then  other  convicted  sinners  come  to  us  saying — ■ 
"  Oh,  sir,  I  can  not  understand  these  doctrines  of  the 
Atonement,  of  Faith,    of  Repentance.     Explain    them. 


90  TEE    GOSPEL     GALL. 

Explain  them."  As  if  a  poor  thirst-stricken  man,  by  a 
sparkling  spring  should  say,  "  Oh,  tell  me,  tell  me,  what 
this  water  is  made  of,  and  how  it  came  here  in  the  hot 
wilderness,  and  why  it  is  offered  to  me,  and  how  can  it 
quench  my  intolerable  agony?"  Alas,  poor  foolish 
questioner  !  let  the  philosophy  of  salvation  alone.  Come, 
drink — drink — drink  of  the  living  water. 

"  Come,  take  the  water  of  life  freely."  Oh,  what  a 
precious  and  glorious  call  this  !  "  The  water  of  life  /" 
"Who  can  tell  us  all  its  meaning  ?  "  Water — water  !" 
How  sweet  the  sound  to  a  fainting  pilgrim  !  "  Water — 
water !"     How 

"It  cooleth  the  lip,  it  cooleth  the  brain, 
It  maketh  the  sick  one  well  again." 

A  fountain  of  water  !  Not  a  poor  reservoir,  stag- 
nant and  hot — but  a  living  fountain,  with  its  green  banks 
and  bright  palms.  How  sweet  to  the  sun-struck  wan- 
derer, as  it  bursts  in  sparkling  freshness  in  the  midst  of 
the  desert ! 

A  fountain  of  the  water  of  Life — Life.  Life  physi- 
cal, spiritual,  immortal,  eternal.  Oh,  that  glorious  vision 
of  John ! — "  A  pure  river  of  the  water  of  life,  clear  as 
crystal,  proceeding  out  of  the  throne  of  God  and  of  the 
Lamb.  And  on  either  side  of  the  river,  the  tree  of  life, 
which  bare  twelve  manner  of  fruits,  and  yielded  her  fruit 
every  month,  and  the  leaves  of  the  tree  were  for  the 
healing  of  the  nations  !" 

Oh,  what  means  it?—"  The  Water  of  Life!"  Tell  us, 
ye  bright  ones  !  Ye  risen  spirits  before  the  throne  !  Ye 
ransomed,  out  of  every  tongue,  and  tribe,  and  kindred, 
and  people!     Ye  that  walk  the  green  pastures,  beside 


THE    GOSPEL     CALL.  91 

the  still  waters  !  Tell  us  what  it  means — "The  Water  of 
Lifer 

Dear,  dying  fellow-sinners,  why  stay  ye  from  the 
fountain  ?  Why  do  you  talk  of  future  times,  and  con- 
venient seasons  ?  How  marvelous  to  procrastinate  the 
thirst-quenching !  To  say,  "  I  am  in  love  with  my 
agony  ;  let  me  pant  and  pine  a  little  longer !" 

Oh  no,  no,  no !  Come  to-day — come  this  moment — 
come  just  as  you  are  !  Oh,  for  an  angel's  voice  to  utter 
the  call  fittingly !  You  ai-e  poor  prodigals  in  a  far 
country — come  home  !  come  home  ! 

You  are  wanderers  in  a  desert — athirst,  imperiled, 
doomed,  death-struck  !  And  here,  behold  ! — the  palms 
wave — the  rock  is  smitten — the  bright  streams  mur- 
mur and  sparkle.  Come,  then,  this  moment,  just  as  you 
are  !  Come,  come,  come — "  Come  take  the  water  of 
ijfe  feeely  !" 


DEVELOPMENT    AND    DISCIPLINE. 


"  The  Lord  thy  God  led  thee  these  forty  years  in  the  wilderness,  to 
humble  thee,  arid  to  prove  thee,  to  know  what  ivas  in  thine  heart." — Deu- 
teronomy, viii.  2. 

You  are  already,  I  doubt  not,  quite  prepared  to  re- 
gard the  Israelites  as  a  typical  people  ;  and  the  history 
of  that  nation  as  a  figurative,  or  prophetic,  record, 
sketching  in  parable  much  that  does  and  will  befall  the 
Church  in  general,  and  its  individual  members  in  partic- 
ular— and  are  thus  prepared  to  consider  the  words  of 
the  text  as  having  a  practical  application  to  ourselves. 
But  in  the  use  of  all  such  scriptures  we  are  to  bear  in  mind 
these  rules  of  symbolic  interpretation — that  frequently 
there  is  more  in  the  type  than  in  its  antitype — and  that 
in  the  study  of  parables  and  symbols,  we  are  not  to  look 
for  too  minute  an  accommodation  of  their  every  part  to 
the  spiritual  truth  they  inculcate.  The  Hebrew  Exodus 
is  undoubtedly  an  emblem  of  a  Christian's  condition  in 
this  world  in  progress  toward  heaven.  And  yet,  if  ex- 
amined too  curiously,  a  thousand  incongruities  will  appear, 
which  must  not  be  insisted  on.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  the 
figure  is  designed  to  illustrate  some  particular  truth, 
and  there  are  many  things  in  the  type  which  will  not  be 


DISCIPLINE.  93 

found  in  the  antitype,  and  as  well,  many  things  in  the 
antitype  which  are  not  set  forth  in  the  type. 

Now  the  point  of  comparison  brought  to  view  in  the 
text,  is  between  God's  treatment  of  the  Israelites  in  the 
wilderness,  and  his  treatment  of  his  peculiar  people — or 
if  you  please  of  all  mankind — in  this  world  of  probation. 
And  keeping  in  mind  the  principles  of  interpretation 
just  adverted  to,  let  us  consider  the  record  of  the  text 
as  containing  truth  for  our  own  personal  and  practical 
application. 

It  is  confessedly  a  strange  and  unexpected  narrative, 
which  Moses  gives  of  the  wanderings  of  the  Israelites. 
From  the  land  of  Goshen  to  the  promised  Canaan  there 
was,  through  Kir,  a  direct  way  of  journeying.  But  in- 
stead of  pursuing  it,  they  were  commanded  to  turn  and 
go  through  the  wilderness  of  Paran.  Nor  this  the  whole 
wonder,  for  even  following  this  circuitous  route,  it  was 
not  so  protracted  au  Exodus  from  the  Nile  to  the  Jor- 
dan. Studying  the  journals  of  later  Oriental  tourists 
who  have  crossed  the  desert  in  the  way  of  the  Israelites, 
you  find  them  leaving  the  Red  Sea  in  the  middle  of 
March,  and  though  traveling  with  scholarly  leisure  and 
research,  yet  in  the  middle  of  April — only  a  single  month 
from  their  departure,  they  have  set  foot  in  the  Garden 
of  Gethsemane  and  the  streets  of  Jerusalem.  And  yet 
you  find  these  Israelites,  under  the  Divine  direction,  in- 
stead of  proceeding  steadily,  if  slowly,  toward  Canaan, 
frequently  retracing  their  steps,  and  revisiting  the  same 
places,  and  wandering  about  in  the  wilderness  for  full 
forty  years.  And  it  is  a  strange  record ;  to  be  under- 
stood only  on  the  supposition  that  on  their  departure 
from  Egypt,  the  people  were  not  prepared  for  the  inhab- 


94  DEVELOPMENT. 

itation  of  Canaan,  and  that  therefore  God  kept  them  in 
the  Exodus,  as  in  a  condition  of  pupilage  and  discipline, 
for  the  civil  and  ecclesiastical  state  to  which  he  had  des- 
tined them. 

The  Israelites,  while  in  bondage  in  Egypt,  wire 
largely  at  least  barbarian  and  idolatrous.  And  from 
the  miraculous  plagues  by  the  Nile,  to  the  miraculous 
passage  of  the  Jordan,  God  was  constantly  teaching 
them  those  theological  and  moral  truths,  without 
which  they  could  not  have  entered  fittingly  upon 
either  the  civil,  or  ecclesiastical,  immunities  of  Canaan. 
And  these  wanderings  in  the  wilderness  were  pro- 
longed, not  because  Canaan  was  so  distant,  but  only 
as  a  discipline  preparatory  to  its  citizenship.  In  the 
expressive  language  of  the  text,  "  The  Lord  led  them 
forty  years  in  the  wilderness  to  humble  them,  and 
prove  them,  and  know  what  was  in  their  heart." 

Now  in  fine  parallel  to  this,  is  God's  treatment 
of  all  Christians,  as  the  true  Spiritual  Israel.  When 
called  by  omnipotent  and  renewing  grace  from  the 
Egypt  of  sinful  bondage,  they  have  at  once  a  sure 
promise  of  a  glorious  inheritance  in  the  heavenly 
Canaan.  But,  instead  of  being  translated  at  first  to 
its  beatitudes,  they  are  left  wanderers  for  long  years 
in  this  earthly  wilderness.  And  although-  this  seems 
to  us,  at  first,  a  strange  dispensation ;  and  we  should, 
a  priori,  expect,  that  the  justified  one,  having  by 
reason  of  his  union  with  Christ  a  perfect  title  to 
heaven,  would,  as  soon  as  he  is  justified,  be  trans- 
lated to  blessedness  and  instantly  glorified :  yet  here, 
as  in  the  case  of  Israel,  the  arrangement  is  explained 
in  the  text.      God  keeps  the  soul  in  this  wilderness- 


DISCIPLINE.  95 

state,  "to  humble  it,  and  to  prove  it,  and  to  faiow  what 
is  in  the  heart.'''' 

This,  then,  is  the  simple  thought  with  which  we 
would  engage  your  attention.  There  are,  you  per- 
ceive, two  distinct  moral  processes  indicated  in  the 
text.  A  process  of  Discovery,  and  a  process  of  Disci- 
pline.    Let  us  consider  them  in  their  order. 

First. — We  have  here,  God's  providential  treatment 
of  men  in  this  world  set  forth,  as  a  2^'ocess  of  Dis- 
covery. "  God  led  them  forty  years  in  the  wilderness  to 
prove  them,  and  to  know  tchat  teas  in  their  heart." 

And  here  the  reference  of  the  text  is  to  all  men  in 
this  state  of  probation.  Of  the  Israelites,  all  were  not 
God's  true  children,  and  millions  were  proved  by  the 
trial  unworthy  Canaan,  and  perished  in  the  wilderness. 
And  so  now  is  it  true  of  every  man,  whether  Christian, 
or  infidel,  that  God  leads  him  in  this  wilderness-state 
"  to  know  ichat  is  in  him."  Not,  indeed,  that  God 
himself  has  need  of  the  manifestation.  But  that  the 
development  of  the  man's  secret  character,  may  either 
convince  him  of  sin,  and  so  lead  him  to  repentance ; 
or  make  manifest  to  a  universe  the  justice  of  his  final 
condemnation.  To  the  eye  of  Omniscience,  that  latent 
and  hidden  principle  of  evil,  which  in  the  human 
heart  lies  back  of  all  action,  yea,  back  of  all  volition, 
is  sin,  most  positive  and  deserving  of  punishment. 
But  that  this  principle  may  appear  unto  finite  com- 
prehension in  all  its  actual  enormity ;  or  in  apostolic 
language,  "  that  sin  by  the  law  may  become  exceeding 
sinful," — the  man  is  brought  into  circumstances,  quick- 
ening the  dormant  principle  into  action,  and  making 
manifest  its  true  nature. 


96  DEVELOPMENT. 

Before  trial,  men  do  not  suspect  the  evil  that  is  in 
others,  nay,  do  not  suspect  even  the  evil  that  is  in 
themselves.  Ilazael  uttered  only  the  honest  indigna- 
tion of  his  heart,  when  to  the  man  of  God,  foreseeing 
his  future  iniquity,  he  returned  the  question  in  sorrow 
and  scorn, — "Is  thy  servant  a  dog  that  he  should  do  this 
great  thing?'''1  The  evil  principle  sleeps  in  the  spirit,  as 
the  Egyptian  monster  in  the  placid  waters  of  the  Nile. 
And  it  is  only  the  hot  sun,  or  the  sweep  of  the  fierce 
tempest  that  can  draw,  or  drive,  it  forth  in  its  malig- 
nant manifestations  to  the  eyes  of  creation.  So  it  was 
with  the  Israelites.  God  tried  them  with  mercies  and 
tried  them  with  afflictions.  He  led  them  to  the  bitter 
waters  of  Marah,  and  Jeshuran  murmured.  He  made 
them  to  ride  on  the  high  places  of  the  earth,  and  eat  the 
increase  of  the  fields,  and  drink  the  blood  of  Eschol's 
grapes, — and  Jeshuran  waxed  fat  and  kicked.  And 
so  it  is  ever.  God  is  trying  every  human  heart,  that 
the  world  may  know  what  forms  of  evil  abide  in  its 
chambers.  And  the  variety  of  trials  is  as  great  as  the 
variety  of  our  circumstances.  He  tries  with  blessings. 
The  poor  man,  who  by  board  and  hearth  in  his  lowly 
cottage,  seems  such  a  godly  despiser  of  the  pomps 
and  vanities  of  this  evil  world ;  him,  God  raises 
suddenly  into  the  possession  of  great  riches :  and  lo  ! 
out  of  that  dwelling  of  poverty,  stalks,  at  the  Divine 
summons,  the  biggest  and  most  unblushing  demon  of 
pride  and  worldliness !  He  tries  with  affliction.  He 
comes  to  the  man  rich  and  prosperous,  and  happy,  and 
surrounded  by  a  household  which  death  has  never 
entered,  and  whose  heart  seems  full  of  grateful  love  to 
Jehovah,    and    with    one    breath    of    disastrous    provi- 


DISCIPLINE.  97 

dence,  drives  the  bark  of  earthly  joy  shattered  and 
shipwrecked  on  the  wild  Mater, — and  lo !  forth  from 
that  heart  where  Angel  Piety  seemed  to  dwell,  stalks 
now  a  mighty  fiend  of  ingratitude  and  rebellion. 

Under  God's  providential  economy,  earthly  and 
practical  life  is  but  practical  development.  Man's 
business  on  this  sublunary  platform,  is  to  work  out  his 
hidden  character  in  the  face  of  the  universe, — to  make 
manifest  his  secret  thoughts  even  in  forms  of  ma- 
terialism. The  fashion  of  the  man's  garments;  the 
furniture  of  his  dwelling ;  the  pictures  he  hangs  upon 
his  walls ;  the  volumes  he  places  in  his  library ;  the 
places  of  his  favorite  recreation;  the  style  of  men 
with  whom  he  delights  to  associate ;  yea,  his  very 
port  and  bearing  as  he  mingles  with  men,  and  walks 
in  the  market-place, — are  all  but  the  development, — the 
visible  expression,  of  the  quality  of  the  thoughts  and 
intents  of  the  heart.  And  this  practical  manifestation 
of  character  in  life,  is  with  a  great  Divine  purpose. 
In  the  case  of  the  Israelites,  it  was  to  show  who,  of 
the  wanderers  in  the  Exodus,  were  proper  men  to  go 
over  to  Canaan.  And  in  our  case,  it  is  to  show,  who 
of  these  dwellers  upon  earth,  are  becoming  meet  for 
the  heavenly  inheritance.  Not  that  God  needs  to 
learn  this,  but  that  he  would  have  his  universe  know, 
that  he  is  just  when  he  judges,  and  clear  when  he 
condemns. 

And  this,  this  is  life  !  The  development  in  actual  forms 
of  the  hidden  things  of  the  spirit !  This  making  known 
to  a  universe  what  there  is  iu  the  heart !  Oh,  then,  how 
awfully  solemn  a  thing  it  is  to  live, — just  to  live  !  Why, 
sirs,  what  were  you  doing  yesterday  ?     "  Busy  with  the 


98  DEVELOPMENT. 

merchantmen  in  the  market-place,"  you  say.  No,  but 
you  were  exhibiting  your  principles  of  honor,  or  dishon- 
esty, to  a  great  cloud  of  witnesses,  in  preparation  for  the 

judgment!  "Furnishing  a  house,"  you  say.  No,  but 
you  were  filling  your  chambers  and  ornamenting  your 
walls  with  outward  expressions  of  your  inner  moral  na- 
ture !  '•  Chiseling  the  marble,"  or  "  coloring  the  can- 
vas," you  say.  No,  you  wei*e  carving  your  own  moral 
statue,  and  painting  your  own  moral  portrait,  for  exhibi- 
tion at  the  judgment.  "  Adorning  your  person  for  some 
fashionable  assembly,"  you  say,  or  "  sweeping  sounds  of 
rich  music  from  the  chords  of  an  instrument."  No,  no, 
you  were  flaunting  your  immortal  drapery  on  life's  plat- 
form, a  spectacle  to  angels — or  sounding  forth  the  har- 
monies or  discords  of  your  moral  life,  in  the  audience- 
room  of  Eternity. 

Ah,  life — earthly  life  is  a  thing  fearfully  solemn  !  What 
were  these  Israelites  doing,  in  these  long  years  of  Exodus 
in  the  wilderness  ?  Eating,  and  drinking,  and  marching 
backward  and  forward,  and  pitching  the  tent  for  rest, 
and  the  tabernacle  for  worship  ?  Yes,  indeed  ;  but  the 
while,  doing  all  this  for  the  great  purpose  of  develop- 
ment !  Working  out,  in  manifest  forms  and  expressions, 
those  inner  iniquities  of  the  heart  that  unfitted  them 
for  Canaan.  And,  alas  !  alas !  the  million  graves  that 
marked  the  march  of  the  Exodus,  made  manifest  how 
fearfully  all  this  development  was  unto  condemnation : 
and  to  what  multitudes  God  swore  in  his  wrath  that  they 
should  not  enter  in,  because  they  believed  not.  Yes,  that 
Exodus  was  a  solemn  journey.  Nor  is  our  life  less  sol- 
emn. Think  of  it !  "A  spectacle  to  angels  !  Compassed 
about  with  a  great  cloud  of  wittiesses  /"     And  so  upon 


DISCIPLINE.  99 

earth,  as  a  platform  flung  up  in  the  midst  of  creation, 
man  walks  to  exhibit  himself  in  the  eyes  of  the  universe. 
And  as  each  feature  of  his  character  is  displayed,  the 
pencil  of  the  Eternal  Limner  transfers  it  to  the  immortal 
canvas,  and  clearer  at  every  moment  of  life  grows  the 
expression,  and  stronger  the  resemblance  ;  till  finished 
at  last,  and  perfect,  as  the  portraiture  of  the  hidden  char- 
acter, it  receives  the  judgment  of  the  universe,  whether, 
in  its  resemblance  to  God  and  the  angels,  it  deserves  a 
place  on  the  lustrous  walls  of  the  Eternal  Temple — or,  in 
its  dark  coloring,  and  distorted  and  demoniac  expression, 
it  beseem  rather  the  prison  of  despair,  and  should  be 
shadowed  with  the  blackness  of  darkness  for  ever  and 
ever ! 

Now  this  is  the  first  thought — God' 's  providential 
treatment  of  man  in  this  world,  a  process  of  development 
and  discovery. — "  He  leads  them  in  the  wilderness  to 
prove  them,  and  to  know  what  is  in  the  heart." 

And  it  brings  us  to  consider,  Secondly — This  other 
providential  design — A  2^'ocess  of  Discipline — "  The 
Lord  God  led  them  forty  years  in  the  wilderness  to 
humble  them." 

Here  by  a  common  scriptural  figure,  the  great  grace  of 
humility,  is  put  metonymically  for  all  the  distinguish- 
ing graces  of  Christian  character.  And  the  meaning  is  : 
that  God  led  them  about  in  the  wilderness,  as  in  a  state  of 
pupilage  and  preparation,  for  the  civil  and  ecclesiastical 
immunities  of  Canaan.  This  was  true,  indeed,  in  regard 
to  the  very  multitude  that  perished  in  the  wilderness. 
The  grand  purpose  even  in  that  process  of  development, 
was  to  show  each  man's  character  to  himself,  that  he 
might  seek,  by  repentance,  pardon  and   sanctification. 


100  DEVELOPMENT. 

But  it  was  especially  true  of  them  who,  prepared  by 
long  wanderings,  crossed  at  last,  the  Jordan  and  entered 
the  land  of  promise.  And  so  in  its  spiritual  reference, 
the  application  of  this  thought  is  specially  to  the  case  of 
the  real  believer,  who  by  daily  sanctification  is  becom- 
ing more  and  more  meet  for  heaven. 

As  before  observed,  it  seems,  a  priori,  a  strange  dis- 
pensation, that  the  soul  of  the  justified  man  is  not  taken 
'  at  its  repentance  immediately,  and  directly  to  the  celes- 
tial world.  Nor  is  the  mysteriousness  of  these  earthly 
trials  diminished  by  the  answer — that  the  Christian  must 
remain  in  this  world  for  the  sake  of  other  men,  as  "  the 
light,"  and  "  the  salt,"  of  lost  and  dying  generations.  If 
Israel  must  pass  forty  years  in  seclusion  and  pupilage 
for  a  citizenship  in  Canaan,  still,  we  should  so  have 
ordered  it,  that,  instead  of  repeatedly  traversing  those 
plains,  with  their  burning  sands  and  their  fiery  serpents, 
they  should  have  pitched  their  tents  for  permanent  en- 
campment in  some  of  those  fertile  valleys — green  with 
pastures,  and  shadowy  and  sweet  with  palm  groves  and 
fountains, — which  lay  at  not  remote  intervals  between 
the  Nile  and  the  Jordan.  And  just  so  in  the  case  of  the 
believer.  If  the  justified  man  in  Christ  must  remain 
still  in  this  world  as  a  benefit  to  others ;  we  should  yet 
so  have  ordered  it,  that  his  life  had  been  all  peaceful 
and  rapturous  in  the  smiles  of  his  God.  But  not  thus 
Jehovah.  God  led  Israel  almost  constantly  amid  the 
dry  and  desolate  tracts  of  the  wilderness.  And  God, 
in  his  analogous  treatment  of  believers,  subjects  the 
justified  soul  to  a  constant  vicissitude  of  temptation  and 
affliction. 

And  the  reason  of  this  arrangement  is  set  forth  in  the 


DISCIPLINE.  101 

text.  He  docs  it  to  work  in  the  soul  a  meetness  for  the 
heavenly  Canaan.  And  in  illustrating  this  thought,  we 
only  ask  you  to  observe, — how  earthly  trials  and  afflic- 
tion are  the  finest  mi  ans  of  sanctification.  You  pei-- 
ceive,  at  once,  in  the  ease  of  the  Israelites,  that  if  God 
had  allowed  them  to  pitch  a  permanent  encampment, 
in  some  fair  oasis  of  the  desert,  then,  instead  of  becom- 
ing more  humble,  they  would  have  waxed  worse  and 
worse  in  arrogance  and  carnality.  And  it  needed  the 
burning  sun,  and  the  hot  sand,  and  the  fiery  serpents, 
and  the  constant  assaults  of  the  fierce  men  of  Amalek 
and  Moab,  to  humble  them  before  God,  and  make  them 
meet  for  a  citizenship  in  the  Theocracy  of  Canaan. 
And  so  of  Christians  on  earth, — a  moment's  considera- 
tion will  show  you,  how  afflictions  are  after  all  the 
finest  discipline  of  sanctification.  For  consider,  in 
illustration,  the  influence  of  earthly  trials  on  a  few 
separate  Christian  graces. 

Take,  first.  As  a  principle  lying  at  the  foundation 
of  all  Christian  character, —  That  filial  faith,  or  implicit 
trust  in  God, — which  must  become  perfect  in  the  soul 
before  it  enters  heaven.  And  tell  me  how  such  a  grace 
can  thrive  well  in  a  condition  of  uninterrupted  pros- 
perity ?  Here  is  my  rich  brother,  whose  coffers  are 
full  of  gold,  and  whose  mansion  is  crowded  with  all 
luxuriant  things ;  and  can  he  trust  strongly  in  God 
for  food  and  raiment?  Can  he  gather  his  children 
round  his  family  altar,  and  utter  sincerely  and  trust- 
fully that  filial  prayer,  "  Give  us  this  day  our  daily 
bread?"  Ah,  no,  indeed!  Bread  is  already  his  for  a 
long  life-time ;  and  raiment,  and  shelter,  and  all  things. 
He  trusts  to  his  stocks,  and  mortgages,  and  houses  on 


102  DEVELOPMENT. 

rent,  and  money  on  interest !  But  there  lives  a  poor 
widow  in  yonder  desolate  chamber,  rich  only  in  faith 
and  God's  magnificent  promises.  Yesternight  she  gave 
her  last  poor  morsel — and  blanket,  to  her  suffering  child! 
and  forgot  her  own  hunger  and  cold  over  her  worn  and 
tear-blotted  Bible  ;  and  when  a  visitor  crossed  her  thresh- 
old, and  dropped  a  coin  into  her  trembling  hand — as 
if  an  angel  had  been  sent  directly  from  God,  to  answer 
her  prayer — she  lifted  her  streaming  eyes  to  heaven 
and  cried,  "  Thanks,  thanks,  to  my  heavenly  Father ; 
he  hath  heard ;  he  hath  answered ;  oh,  my  child  will 
not  die  now.  My  Father,  my  Father  gives  me  daily 
bread !"  Ah  me  !  This  beautiful  trust  in  God  grows 
not  like  the  palm-tree,  in  green  valleys,  and  by  sweet 
waters.  It  needs,  like  God's  cedars,  the  icy  rocks  of  the 
mountain-top,  and  the  fierce  rush  of  the  storm  ! 

Or,  take,  secondly, — That  supreme  love  to  God, — ■ 
which  constitutes  the  very  essence  of  holiness,  and  the 
very  element  of  heaven.  And  observe,  how  it  thrives 
best  under  a  discipline  of  affliction.  It  would  seem, 
indeed,  a  priori,  that  prosperity,  and  untroubled  happi- 
ness, were  the  finest  circumstances  for  this  grace's  de- 
velopment. And  so  they  would  be  were  man  an  un- 
fallen  being.  For  then,  love  would  have  a  direct 
tendency  to  beget  love ;  and  the  more  fair  and  un- 
clouded our  path,  the  more  intense  would  be  our 
affection  to  the  beneficent  Father,  whose  strong  hand 
was  guiding  us.  But,  alas !  man  is  not  unfallen.  And 
amid  the  principles  of  his  accursed  nature,  grow  the 
rank  tares  of  supreme  selfishness.  And,  as  a  superin- 
duced grace  of  miraculous  implantation,  supreme  love 
of  God — born  of  bright  skies  and  balmy  seasons — which 


DISCIPLINE.  103 

even  the  most  selfish  heart  cherishes ;  for  it  is  only  self- 
love  under  heavenly  disguises.  We  love  ourselves,  and 
so  think  we  love  all  things  that  tend  to  our  own  happi- 
ness ;  and  so  long  as  God,  with  all  his  great  attributes, 
seems  busy  only  for  our  good,  we  perhaps  think  we  love 
him.  But  do  we  though  ?  Yonder  sits  a  mother  sur- 
rounded by  her  children.  God  has  dealt  with  her  most 
gently.  Death  has  made  no  vacant  place  in  her  house- 
hold, and  her  heart  swells  in  maternal  pride  of  her  fair 
daughters,  and  her  stately  sons.  And  amid  the  sweet 
ministries  of  her  home,  maternal  affection  seems  almost 
sanctified  into  religion ;  and  with  an  exuberant  thank- 
fulness to  that  Almighty  One,  who  hath  so  preserved 
her  idols,  she  would  rej)el  you  in  anger,  should  you  dare 
to  question  her  true  love  to  God.  She  would  say — "  I 
not  love  God !  Oh,  how  can  I  do  otherwise  than  love 
him  ?  So  good ;  so  abundantly  merciful  he  is  to  me 
and  my  beloved  ones  !"  But  does  she  love  God  though  ? 
Alas !  go  down  to  the  last  analysis  of  those  affections, 
till  you  understand  them  in  their  true  character ;  as  they 
seem  to  the  creatures  of  eternity,  and  what  will  you 
find  there  ?  Love  to  God  ?  Ah,  no  !  Nothing  loftier 
or  holier  than  the  veriest  idolatry.  A  lifting  the  crea- 
ture into  the  place  of  the  Creator.  For  just  let  the 
great  God  come  as  a  sovereign  into  that  glad  household ; 
let  him  breathe  witheringly  upon  those  beloved  ones ; 
let  him  bring  the  shadow  upon  that  bright  eye,  and  the 
palsy  upon  that  bounding  heart ;  and  lay  that  child  from 
her  bosom  to  the  dark  and  pitiless  grave,  and  then,  ah 
me  !  how  soon  that  mother's  love  will  rise  up  in  rebel- 
lion. "  Oil,  unkind  Providence  !"  she  will  cry — "  Oh, 
ruthless,  heartless,  malignant  monster,  Death  !"     And  in 


104  DEVELOPMENT. 

all  this  she  pours  forth  anathemas  against  the  glorious 
Jehovah.  Ah,  no  ;  true  lore  to  God  is  of  a  different  cul- 
ture, and  a  diiferent  manifestation. 

Sec  thai  Christian  mother  by  her  dead  child.  She,  too, 
has  in  all  its  depth  and  tenderness  a  mother's  Love.  And 
that  child's  sweet  voice  and  winning  ways  were  all  that 
made  life  blest  in  her  lone  and  desolate  dwelling.  Alas, 
he  to  die !  That  child,  whose  smile  was  as  the  smile  of 
nn  angel  on  her  path  to  eternity !  He  to  turn  away  from 
her  clasping  arms,  and  lie  down  in  the  cold,  dark,  unpity- 
ing  sepulchre!  But  he  hath  died!  Alas,  he  will  never 
smile  on  her  again!  Never  say,  "Mother," — "mother," 
again!  Yet  see  the  mother  now !  Weeping?  Yes,  in- 
deed— why  should  she  not  weep?  Her  glorious  and  di- 
vine Saviour  wept  at  the  beloved  grave !  But  with  all 
a  mother's  love,  there  is  all  a  Christian's  faith.  With 
her  tearful  eyes  lifted  heavenward,  hark  to  her  trustful 
words  ! — "  Oh,  he  said  it — the  blessed  Master  said  it — 
'  Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  me?  Yes,  my  child 
has  gone  to  heaven.  My  lamb  is  on  the  Shepherd's 
bosom — the  Lord  gave  and  the  Lord  taketh  away — 
blessed,  blessed,  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord  !"  And 
this  is  true  love  to  God.  A  love  swallowing  up  every 
earthly  emotion,  as  the  rivers  are  swallowed  up  by  the 
sea.  A  heavenly  plant  of  grace,  that  grows  not  well 
amid  jieaceful  encampments,  in  valleys  of  sweet  water: 
but  needs  for  its  highest  culture,  the  barren  plains  of  the 
.desert,  with  sands  and  serpents — the  wild  sweep  of  the 
storm,  and  the  fierce  assault  of  armed  enemies ! 

Or  take,  thirdly ', —  That  gracious  deadness  to  the  world, 
and  patient  longing  for  heaven, — which,  in  apostolic  ex- 
perience, and  indeed  in  all  true  Christian  experience,  is 


DISCIPLINE.  105 

the  last  and  crowning  rneetness  for  the  heavenly  dwell- 
ing ;  and,  observe,  how  it  can  scarcely  be  wrought  at  all 
in  the  soul,  save  by  the  discipline  of  affliction.  In  the 
case  of  the  Israelites,  at  their  first  entrance  upou  the 
Exodus  ;  and  indeed  afterward,  and  far  on  in  their  jour- 
neys, we  find  them  looking  back  with  strong  desire  to 
the  carnal  joys  of  Egypt.  And  had  God  allowed  them 
to  pitch  permanent  encampment  in  some  bright  valley 
of  palm-trees,  then,  still  more  and  more,  had  they  shrunk 
from  the  dread  swellings  of  the  Jordan,  and  the  unknown 
and  undiscovered  land  beyond;  and  it  was  only  at  the 
close  of  forty  years  of  pilgrim  wanderings,  amid  the  pri- 
vations and  dangers  of  that  wild  and  howling  wilder- 
ness, that  the  tried  hearts  of  the  people  yearned  with  a 
mighty  homesickness,  for  an  establishment  in  the  civil 
and  ecclesiastical  economy  of  a  Canaan  of  rest.  And  so 
it  is  with  the  Christian.  Faith,  however  vigorous  its 
exercise  in  the  heart  of  a  believer,  is  yet  not  the  positive 
reality,  but  only  the  philosophic  evidence,  of  things  un- 
seen and  but  hoped  for ;  and  against  it,  things  seen  and 
temporal  are  arrayed  in  a  sensible  and  present  power, 
antagonistic  and  overwhelming.  And  God's  method  of 
strengthening  the  faith,  till  the  unseen  becomes  more 
than  an  equipoise  for  the  sensible — is  not,  by  bringing 
out  the  things  of  eternity  in  positive  and  visible  splen- 
dor in  heaven  ;  but  by  beclouding,  and  so  weakening, 
the  rival  glories  of  time.  Just  as  in  the  material  uni- 
verse, it  is  not  by  making  the  heavenly  really  more  lus- 
trous, but  only  by  bringing  night  over  the  earthly,  that 
God  brings  out  the  stars. 

Here  is  a  man — it  may  be  truly  a  Christian — whose 
earthly  life  is  full  of  gladness  and  glory :  his  dwelling  is 
5* 


106  DEVELOPMENT. 

a  palace ;  his  name  is  a  power  in  the  land's  language ; 
fair  and  fond  children  love  him  ;  honorable  men  honor 
him ;  no  corroding  sorrow  tortures  his  heart ;  no  insal  ial  e 
ambition  embitters  his  life-spring  ;  a  happy  and  a  joyous 
man  he  is  on  the  earth.  Now,  though  this  man  may  be 
truly  a  Christian,  he  is  not  ready  to  die.  So  rich  and  fair 
in  its  coloring,  falls  round  him  this  massive  curtain  of 
things  temporal,  that  even  the  revealed  lustres  of 
Eternity  shine  but  faintly  through ;  and  if  the  fire- 
car,  that  came  for  Enoch,  and  Elijah,  should  descend 
visibly  to  his  portal,  oh !  it  would  be  almost  with  the 
recoil  of  a  breaking  heart,  that  he  looked  the  last  on  his 
princely  possessions,  and  said  "farewell"  to  his  beloved 
household;  and  flung  the  reins  loose  on  the  winged 
coursers ;  turning  his  face  forever  from  the  earthly, 
and  rushing  up  to  the  skies. 

But  now,  in  the  contrast,  look  yonder.  In  that 
cold  and  comfortless  hovel  lives  a  poor  and  friendless 
man.  Poor  and  friendless  through  no  fault  of  his  own ; 
for,  to  the  eye  of  God's  angels,  that  hoary  head  is  a 
crown  of  glory.  But  from  plenty  and  gladness  God's 
mysterious  Providence  has  stricken  him  as  with  a  thun- 
derbolt. His,  too,  were  once  a  princely  home,  and 
stately  children,  that  would  have  shed  their  heart's 
blood  as  water  ere  a  father  so  honored  should  have 
been  left  thus  in  want.  But,  alas !  they  are  now  in 
the  grave.  And  with  no  hand  to  guard,  and  no  eye  to 
watch,  he  is  friendless  and  alone.  But,  come  near  and 
talk  with  him,  if  you  would  learn  the  mighty  power  of 
sorrow  to  sanctify.  "Ah,  my  old  friend,  this  is  a  hard 
lot  of  yours,  is  it  not  ?"  "  Hard  !  hard  !  Oh,  no,  no  !" 
he  says.     "  It  is  enough  for  the  disciple  that  he  be  as 


DISCIPLINE.  107 

his  Master,  and  my  blessed  Redeemer  had  not  where  to 
lay  his  head.  Yes,  and  it  will  be  over  soon.  A  little 
longer,  and  the  desert  will  be  crossed,  and  then  the 
Canaan  !"  "  And  so  you  are  thinking  of  heaven,  and 
are  willing  to  depart  ?"  "  Willing  !"  he  says,  "  willing  ! 
willing  to  be  with  the  beloved  dead,  and  the  more 
beloved  Jesus !  Willing  !  Why  there  is  not  a  thing 
now  between  me  and  my  Saviour  !  I  am  athirst  for  the 
living  water  !  I  am  homesick  for  glory  !  Come,  come, 
come,  Lord  Jesns,  come  quickly  !"  Yes,  yes,  my  breth- 
ren, it  is  thus  God  sanctifies — he  takes  away  the  earthly 
that  the  heart  may  rise  to  the  heavenly.  He  tears  the 
bark  from  its  mortal  moorings,  that  it  may  launch  forth 
toward  the  eternal  haven.  He  stirs  up  the  nest  of  the 
slumberous  eagle,  that  with  exulting  pinion,  it  may  soar 
to  the  sun ! 

This,  this  is  the  gracious  mystery  of  true  heavenly- 
mindedness !  It  was  when  surrounded  by  enemies, 
thirsting  for  his  blood,  that  Stephen  saw  heaven  open ! 
It  was  in  the  depth  of  the  ^Egean  poverty  and  exile, 
that  John  beheld  the  glory  of  the  sweeping  trains  along 
the  golden  streets  of  the  City  of  Holiness  !  It  was  upon 
the  red  sands  of  the  Roman  arena,  when  weighed  down 
with  fettei's,  and  faint  from  lonely  imprisonment,  and 
surrounded  by  infuriated  heathen,  and  wild  beasts  of  the 
amphitheatre,  that  the  voice  of  Paul  rang  out,  with  the 
exultation  of  more  than  a  conqueror — enraptured  with 
the  good  fight  he  had  fought,  and  the  crown  of  glory 
thenceforth  laid  up  for  him. 

Yes,  my  brethren — this  desire  to  depart,  and  be  with 
Christ,  is  a  crowning  grace,  that  grows  not,  like  the 
palm-tree,  in  the  green  valleys,  where  rejoicing  pilgrims 


108  DEVELOPMENT. 

pitch  tont  in  the  wilderness,  but  rather  like  God's  great 

cedars,  it  needs  the  sweep  of  the  hurricane,  and  the  icy 
rocks  of  Mount  Lebanon.  Like  the  rainbow  round  the 
head  of  the  mighty  angel,  it  comes  not  forth  in  its 
brightness  along  the  heaven's  pure  azure,  but  needs 
for  its  more  lustrous  glory  a  background  of  cloud  ! 

Now,  this  is  the  other  thought  of  the  text.  GocVs 
Providential  treatment  of  men  in  this  world,  a  process 
of  Discipline.  '•'■lie  led  them  forty  years  in  the  wilder- 
ness to  humble  them.'''1  And  how  rich  the  lesson  in  its 
consolation  to  the  real  believer  !  Those  Israelites  under- 
stood it  at  last,  when,  as  conquerors  and  more  than  con- 
querors, they  went  over  Jordan — how  much  they  had 
needed  the  stern  pupilage  of  the  Exodus,  to  prepare 
them  for  the  civil  and  ecclesiastical  beatitudes  unto 
which  God  was  leading  them.  And  though  at  first  it 
seemed  strange  that,  instead  of  advancing  by  rapid 
and  direct  marches  to  the  promised  land,  they  should 
thus  wander  for  long  years  amid  the  sands  of  the  desert, 
yet,  from  the  green  fields  and  glorious  cities  of  Canaan, 
they  looked  back  with  rapture  and  love,  "  remembering 
all  the  way  the  Lord  their  God  had  led  them.'''' 

And  just  so  of  the  Christian.  It  seems  strange  in- 
deed sometimes,  that,  at  the  first  moment  of  repentance 
and  pardon,  the  justified  soul  is  not  taken  to  glory. 
But  we  shall  see  it  by  and  by,  and  we  ought  to  see  it 
presently — that,  as  spirits  under  discipline  for  the  dif- 
ferent allotments  of  heaven,  more  precious  to  us  is  this 
pilgrimage,  with  its  poor  scrip  and  its  worn  sandal,  than 
the  instant  fire-car  of  the  prophet  to  translate  us  to  the 
skies.  There  are  distinctions  in  the  conditions  of  the 
redeemed  in  eternity — harps  of  a  more  amazing  power 


DISCIPLINE.  109 

— and  sceptres  of  a  wider  sway — and  stations  nearer  in 
honor  to  the  throne  of  our  God!  And  this  weari- 
some pilgrimage  on  earth  is  hut  a  continuance  on  that 
wrestling  arena,  where  every  successful  struggle  adds 
to  the  fair  and  goodly  things  that  make  up  eternity. 
These  tears  wrung  from  the  weeping  eye,  and  these 
blossoms  torn  from  the  heart,  are  to  be  set  as  rare  gems, 
and  woven  as  rich  flowers,  in  our  heavenly  crowns  of 
rejoicing.  And  who  wonders  longer  at  the  triumph  of 
the  great  apostle  in  view  of  afflictions  ?  From  the 
midst  of  persecutions,  and  conflict,  and  agonies,  such  as 
had  been  borne  by  no  other  mortal,  he  had  been  caught 
away  to  stand  for  a  moment  amid  the  great  realities  of 
heaven — to  hear  the  unspeakable  words— to  compass  the 
amazing  issues  of  present  sufferings,  in  the  ineffable 
glories  of  eternity !  And  borne  back  again  to  the 
scenes  of  his  earthly  trial ;  so  very  a  trifle  seemed  it 
all,  in  contrast  with  the  eternal  triumph,  that  upon  all 
these  persecutions,  and  agonies,  and  deaths,  he  looked 
calmly  down,  saying,  as  if  they  were  unworthy  the 
reckoning — as  if  they  were  nothing — "  These  light  afflic- 
tions, which  are  but  for  a  moment" — and  then  lifting  his 
flashing  eyes  upward,  cried  in  exulting  gladness — "  The 
glory!" — '■''The  weight  of  glory /" — '■'•The  exceeding 
weight  of  glory  /" — '•'•The  fae  more  exceeding  weight  of 
glory  /" — "  The  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal,  xoeight 
of  glory  /" — ay — ay — and  those  amazing  triumphs,  the 
result  of  these  trials !  In  the  beneficent  process  of  God's 
gracious  economy,  "  These  light  afflictions,  which  are  but 
for  a  moment,  working  out  for  us  the  far  more  exceed- 
ing and  eternal  weight  of  glory  /" 

Oh,  I  understand   it  now — what   the   apostle   meant 


110  DEVELOPMENT. 

when,  exultingly,  "he  counted  all  things  as  loss  that  he 
might  attain  unto  the  fellowship  of  Christ's  sufferings," 
— mark  you ! — not  the  fellowship  of  his  triumph ;  but 
the  fellowship  of — his  sufferings.  And  understanding 
this — in  these  few  years  of  earthly  preparation,  I  would 
not  barter  this  framework,  with  its  aching  head  and  bur- 
dened heart,  for  the  form  of  immortality  and  power  that 
shall  spring  from  the  Resurrection.  And  I  would  not 
exchange  my  mortal  right  to  share  my  Master's  sorrows 
— to  bear  his  heavy  cross — to  wear  his  piercing  thorn 
crown — to  drink  of  his  cup,  and  be  baptized  with  his 
baptism  —  not  for  all  the  pomps  and  powers  of  the 
archangel !  Yes — yes — from  those  high  hills  of  glory — 
whereon,  with  the  palm  and  white  robe,  the  earthly  pil- 
grim rests  from  his  labor — blessed,  oh !  how  unspeakably 
blessed !  it  will  be  to  look  back  along  the  path  of  the 
Exodus,  "  and  remember  all  the  toay  that  the  Lord  our 
God  led  us  in  the  wilderness,  to  humble  us,  and  to  prove 
us,  and  to  know  what  was  in  the  hearV 

And  wonder  not,  then,  my  impenitent  hearer,  that, 
though  our  way  lies  through  a  wilderness,  we  should 
still  urge  you,  with  many  tears,  to  take  scrip  and  staff 
and  go  with  us  on  pilgrimage  !  If  this  spiritual  Exodus 
were  as  joyless  and  terrible  as  your  sinful  fears  make  it, 
still  we  tell  you,  that  the  bright  lands  of  eternity  lie  across 
this  desert,  and  can  only  be  reached  by  him  that  girdeth 
strongly  the  loins,  and  goes  forth  on  the  jrilgrimage.  But 
then,  as  of  the  Hebrew  Exodus,  so  of  the  spiritual — there 
is  no  wider  mistake  than  to  suppose  that  the  wilderness 
is  only  a  barren  plain,  covered  with  sand,  and  swarming 
with  serpents — no,  thanks  be  to  God  !  thickly  bestudding 
both,  are  fair  and  fertile  spots  in  the  desert,  where  the 


DISCIPLINE.  HI 

grass  is  soft  and  green  around  sunny  fountains,  and 
the  birds  warble,  and  the  palm-trees  wave  ! — and  alike  in 
both,  there  rise  along  the  pilgrim's  pathway,  landscapes 
of  surpassing  grandeur,  where  the  flashing  torrents  wind 
through  the  passes,  and  the  mountains  pierce  the  heavens 
with  their  cloud-crowned  summits.  Yea,  and  in  those 
tracts  where  the  pathway  is  most  wild — where  the  sands 
are  hot,  and  the  serpent  hisses,  and  the  sun  pours  his 
fierce  beams  on  the  weary  pilgrim  —  even  there,  our 
march  is  not  comfortless.  For  along  the  desert  sand 
falls  the  heavenly  manna — and  fast  by  our  side  flows 
the  living  water  —  and  steadfast  in  the  van  abides  the 
Shechinah  of  glory — and  then  beyond  ! — ah,  beyond  ! 
Canaan!  Canaan,  with  its  royal  cities,  and  its  thrones 
of  power,  and  its  diadems  of  glory  !  Canaan !  Canaan 
as  it  burst  upon  the  eye  of  Moses,  making  his  dying  hour 
a  triumphal  rapture  from  the  heights  of  Pisgah !  Ca- 
naan !  Canaan  ! — that  house  of  many  mansions  ! — that 
home  of  the  beloved  dead  !  —  that  dwelling-place  of 
Jesus!  —  that  glorious  kingdom  of  God!  Oh,  Canaan, 
Canaan  !  lies  fair  and  bright  before  us — and  this  path 
through  the  desert  is  the  only  path  that  leads  to  its 
enrapturing  inheritance.  "  Come  with  us,  then>  come 
with  us,  and  we  will  do  you  good  /" 


SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 


"Know  ye  not  your  own  selves." — II.  Corinthians,  xiii.  5. 

This  question  is  exceedingly  impressive  as  addressed  to 
the  Corinthians.  They  prided  themselves  in  the  Greek 
philosophy,  and  the  very  wisest  of  the  precepts  of  that 
philosophy  was — "  Know  thyself."  Pnt  to  them,  there- 
fore, the  question  expressed  both  irony  and  astonishment 
— astonishment,  in  view  of  their  real  self-ignorance — 
irony,  in  view  of  their  pretentious  philosophic  self- 
knowledge. 

Put  to  ourselves,  the  question  may  have  less  of  irony, 
for  we  have  little  of  the  Greek  pretension,  but  is  express- 
ive of  no  less  astonishment,  for  we  have  even  more  than 
Grecian  self-ignorance.  We  do  not  know  our  own  selves! 
A  marvelous  assertion,  yet  a  true  one.  Physically,  intel- 
lectually, morally,  spiritually,  most  of  men  are  to  them- 
selves profound  strangers. 

Physically,  we  are  ignorant  of  ourselves.  The  lmman 
body  is  a  living  machine  constructed  for  the  use  of  a 
spiritual  being.  It  is  the  most  complex,  and  wonderful, 
and  invaluable  of  all  machines.  And  yet  how  little  do 
most  men  know  of  it !  How  ignorant  oft-times  are  they 
of  the  simplest  functions  of  the  animal  economy !  And 
in  this  ignorance  it  is  not  strange  that  they  violate  the 


SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  113 

laws  of  health  every  day,  and  fall  victims  to  self-induced 
disease,  which  is  suicide.  If  men  thoroughly  understood, 
and  perfectly  obeyed  those  laws  of  physical  life,  probably 
most  of  the  race  would  attain  to  the  full  threescore  and 
ten,  or  the  fourscore  years. 

How  strange,  then,  nay,  how  sinful  is  this  ignorance ! 
If  a  man  think  to  keep  time-pieces  in  order,  or  musical 
instruments  in  tune,  he  must  spend  years  in  a  careful 
study  of  their  mechanism.  But  parents  pretend  to  take 
care  of  children,  knowing  no  more  of  the  laws  of  food, 
digestion,  respiration,  exercise — no  more,  indeed,  of  the 
child's  simplest  animal  functions,  than  the  infant  itself 
knows  of  the  wheels  of  a  watch,  or  the  stops  of  an  organ. 
And  what  marvel  that  so  many  children  die  in  the  first 
years  of  their  being  ? 

And  so  too  of  our  maturer  self-management,  how  sadly 
are  we  unprepared  for  a  work  so  important.  There  is 
probably  no  man  who  hears  me  who  would  attempt  the 
navigation  of  a  steamship  across  the  ocean.  But  the 
mechanism  of  that  steamship  is  not  half  so  wonderful, 
nor  its  management  half  so  difficult,  as  of  these  human 
bodies  floating  on  the  seas  of  life. 

And  if  a  hundred  of  these  youths  should  attempt,  each 
the  navigation  of  such  a  vessel,  probably  fewer  would  be 
shipwrecked  than  will  perish  prematurely  through  self- 
ignorance  ;  and  more  would  reach  trans-atlantic  shores 
than  Avill  attain  to  the  fourscore  of  a  vigorous  and 
healthy  old  age. 

True  it  is,  we  excuse  our  ignorance  here  by  our  well- 
grounded  reliance  on  professional  medical  science.  And 
the  excuse  would  be  good  if  we  employed  physicians  to 
ktep  us  in  health,  rather  than  to  aid  us  in  sickness.     But, 


114  SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 

alas,  we  run  the  noble  vessel  into  wild  currents,  and 
amid  rocks  and  quicksands ;  and  then  hoist  signal-flag 
for  the  pilot,  to  work  the  poor  imperiled  bark  into  the 
open  sea  again  !  Verily  this  wide-spread  ignorance  of 
common  physiological  truth,  as  it  has  to  do  with  the 
conditions  and  functions  of  bodily  health,  is  both  shame- 
ful and  sinful. 

Every  being  to  whom  God  has  kindly  given  a  body, 
should  know  enough  of  the  laws  of  food,  exercise,  respi- 
ration, digestion — enough,  in  a  word,  of  the  general  prin- 
ciples of  physiology — to  preserve  that  body  in  its  highest 
conditions  of  health  and  strength,  till  the  machine  is 
worn  out  in  the  fourscore  years  of  a  regulated  and  well- 
spent  life. 

Nor  less  common  and  lamentable  is  our  intellectual 
self-ignorance.  Many  men  practically  ignore  their  in- 
tellectual faculties.  While  only  a  few  propound  it  phil- 
osophically, very  many  act  on  the  theory,  that  bones, 
nerves,  muscles,  blood-vessels,  brains,  all  make  up  a 
thinking  and  feeling  machine,  working  only  on  chemical 
or  mechanical  principles.  And  their  only  self-culture 
consists  in  taking  care  of  the  body.  Like  the  rich  fool 
in  the  parable  they  think  only  of  the  stomach,  even 
when  they  address  words  to  the  soul. 

Some  men  never  think  at  all.  All  elaborate  art,  all 
abstruse  and  difficult  science,  all  literature  that  exercises 
the  higher  faculties,  yea,  even  the  blessed  Gospel,  in  its 
mission  to  the  intellect,  all  seem  to  them  burdensome. 
They  live  not  amid  thoughts,  but  amid  feelings.  Not 
only  not  cultivating  mind,  but  almost  unconscious  of  its 
possession. 

And  even  among  those  who  recognize  their  intellectual 


SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  115 

nature,  how  strangely  is  it  treated  !  N"o  two  minds  are 
alike,  and  therefore  no  two  minds  should  receive  the 
same  treatment. 

Here  self-knowledge  is  essential  to  self-culture.  We 
must  discern  the  grand  master-faculty  of  the  soul,  and 
give  it  adjustment  as  the  central  and  controlling  force  in 
the  system.  As  God  designed  every  man  to  fill  a  par- 
ticular sphere,  and  do  a  particular  work,  so  hath  he 
equipped  him  with  forces  and  faculties  for  that  work  and 
sphere.  In  all  the  prodigality  of  his  fullness  God  never 
wastes  implements  or  energies.  He  gives  not  wings  to 
fishes  that  swim  in  water,  nor  fins  to  birds  that  fly  in  air. 
Nor  the  more  hath  he  vouchsafed  a  sensitive  and  soaring 
genius  to  a  man  designed  to  break  stones  on  the  road, 
nor  a  stolid  and  insensible  patience  to  one  formed  for  a 
great  orator  or  poet. 

Every  man  has  his  special  intellectual  gift,  which  often 
he  does  not  discover  till  too  late  to  develop  and  em- 
ploy to  profit.  And  so  he  goes  to  the  grave,  instinct- 
ively dissatisfied  with  himself,  as  a  mal-adjustment  in 
the  social  system — not  doing  the  great  work  God  de- 
signed for  him,  because  he  has  not  perceived  where  his 
great  strength  lies,  and  is  working  altogether  with  his 
weaker  and  secondary  faculties.  And  surely  all  this  is 
shameful  and  sinful.  Every  man  to  whom  God  hath 
given  an  intellect,  should  have  enough  self-knowledge  to 
understand  thoroughly  its  peculiar  powers,  that,  seeking 
intelligently  those  spheres  and  works  for  which  God  has 
equipped  him,  he  may  so  live  therein  and  labor,  that  mor- 
tal life  shall  not  be  a  gloomy  failure,  but  a  glorious  success. 

Meanwhile,  quite  as  common,  and  even  more  lamenta- 
ble, is  our  moral  self-ignorance.     Our  intellect  may  be 


116  SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 

symmetrically  developed,  and  in  vigorous  exercise,  while 
we  have  little  knowledge  or  feeling-  of  our  moral  condi- 
tion. And  yet  the  desires,  the  affections,  the  will,  the 
conscience — those  principles  which  make  up  our  moral 
constitution  —  should  be,  even  more  carefully  than  our 
bodily  functions,  objects  of  self-management.  The  evils 
of  ignorance  here  are  manifest  both  upon  our  comfort 
and  our  character. 

Self-knowledge  on  this  point  tends  greatly  to  increase 
even  our  comfort.  Of  the  passions  and  emotions  which 
belong  to  our  moral  nature,  some  are  naturally  painful, 
and  some  pleasurable  in  their  exercise,  and  our  earthly 
happiness  depends  upon  quickening  the  play  of  those 
which  give  pleasure,  and  diminishing  the  power  of  those 
that  give  pain.  Malice,  envy,  covetousness,  injustice, 
cruelty,  anger — these,  and  all  that  great  class  of  feelings 
which  we  term  the  malevolent,  are,  in  their  very  exer- 
cise, sources  of  wretchedness.  Whereas,  on  the  contrary, 
gentleness,  forgiveness,  charity,  long-suffering,  love — and 
that  whole  class  of  benevolent  emotions  to  which  they 
belong,  do,  by  their  very  exercise,  fill  the  spirit  with 
gladness.  And  yet  these  simple  cardinal  facts  of  moral 
science  how  few  men  ever  consider  ! 

The  soul  of  man  has  been  compared  to  a  dwelling  of 
many  apartments,  and  the  man  himself  has  been  repre- 
sented as  occupying  mostly  the  rooms  corresponding 
with  his  most  exercised  emotions.  Now,  in  such  a 
bouse,  love  may  be  supposed  to  have  a  fair  banqueting 
hall — anger  a  cell  dark  and  prison-like ; — faith  and  hope 
to  have  glorified  chambers  looking  heavenward,  and  the 
lower  passions  to  rage  and  raven  like  unblessed  spirits 
in  dungeons  of  gloom.     And  possessed  of  such  a  house, 


SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  117 

how  foolish  were  the  man  who  should  seldom  enter,  or 
positively  and  practically  ignore  those  loftier  and  love- 
lier pavilions  of  gladness — deliberately  choosing  to  abide 
in  the  cell  of  envy,  or  the  dungeon  of  anger,  or  the  dark 
chamber  cf  impurity,  rather  than  to  sit  at  love's  great 
banquet,  or  to  recline  in  the  pavilion  where  benevolence 
makes  sweet  music,  or  to  ascend  to  the  bright  chamber 
of  faith  and  hope,  and  look  forth  upon  sun  and  star  in 
heaven  from  their  open  casements.  Surely,  our  happi- 
ness greatly  depends  upon  understanding  and  rightly 
treating  our  moral  nature. 

Meantime,  of  course,  our  character  depends  upon  it. 
And  verily,  it  is  marvelous  how  little  most  men  know 
morally  of  themselves  !  Not  that  herein  we  have  not 
adequate  standards  and  powers  to  achieve  a  right  judg- 
ment, for  on  these  very  points  we  judge  other  men  cor- 
rectly. Probably  in  most  cases  the  moral  reputation  a 
man  sustains  in  a  community  gives  the  truth  in  regard 
of  his  moral  character.  If  the  world  unite  in  calling 
him  a  good  man,  he  probably  is  good.  If  it  call  him  a 
bad  man,  he  probably  is  bad.  Even  a  wide-spread  sus- 
picion of  a  man's  dishonesty,  or  impurity,  or  untruthful- 
ness, is  in  most  cases  a  shadow  of  some  positive  salient 
angle  in  his  character.  The  eagle-eyed  world  looks 
keenly  through  all  the  hypocrisies  and  disguises  of  pre- 
tense, and  reads  aright  the  real  elements  of  character. 

And  yet,  strange  to  say,  few  men  understand  rightly 
their  own.  And  this,  not  because  they  can  not,  but  be- 
cause they  will  not.  They  do  not  look  carefully  after 
those  favorite,  or  easily  besetting  sins  which  color,  yea, 
constitute  character.  In  their  superficial  self-examination 
they  do  not  carry  God's  lamp  into  the  haunts  and  fast- 


118  SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 

nesses  of  their  ruling  propensities.  The  proud  man 
looks  after  his  covetousness — and  the  envious  man  looks 
after  his  dishonesty  —  and  the  impure  man  looks  after 
his  insincerity — each  carefully  perceiving,  perhaps  hon- 
estly confessing,  some  evil  thing  about  him,  which  yet 
is  not  the  controlling  principle — the  elementary  evil  of 
his  character.  And  thus  reading  himself  wrongly,  he 
manages  himself  also  wrongly.  He  is  busy  in  destroying 
evil  insects,  while  the  serpent-sin  grows  strong — cutting 
down  thistles,  and  brambles,  and  thorns,  while  the  oaks 
and  cedars  of  iniquity  shoot  deep  their  strong  roots,  and 
spread  wide  their  mighty  branches. 

And  surely  all  this  is  shameful  and  sinful.  Every 
man,  possessed  of  a  moral  nature,  whose  development 
must  be  into  immense  growths  either  of  good  or  evil, 
should  understand  it  thoroughly,  that  the  flowers  and 
fruits  of  its  culture  may  be  goodful  and  glorious. 

But  beyond  all  this,  and  that  which  our  text  refers  to 
especially,  there  is  among  men  a  lamentable  spiritual  self- 
ignorance.  And  on  this  point  we  wish  particularly  to 
dwell.  We  have  just  come  from  the  sacramental  com- 
munion, and  are  therefore  in  circumstances  demanding 
special  self-examination.  Doubtless  some  of  us  were  at 
that  table  who  had  no  right  to  be  there,  and  some  of  us 
were  not  at  that  table  for  whom  the  gracious  Saviour 
kept  a  place  in  love. 

There  are  probably  some  here  who  think  themselves 
Christians,  but  are  not — and  as  probably  there  are  others 
who  are  truly  Christians,  while  they  do  not  think  them- 
selves such.    Let  us  consider  these  two  classes  separately. 

First. —  There  are  2^erso)is  who  think  themselves  Chris- 
tians, but  are  not.     Many  men  are  really  self-deceived. 


SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  119 

Either  encouraged  and  urged  by  injudicious  friends,  or 
relying  on  insufficient  evidences,  they  have  united 
with  the  people  of  God,  although  still  unregenerate. 
Nevertheless  such  self-deception  is  altogether  unneces- 
sary. Surely  if  there  be  any  thing  made  plain  in  the 
Bible,  it  is  the  evidence  of  true  Christian  character.  On 
this  point  the  apostles  express  themselves  most  con- 
fidently. "I  know"  says  Paul,  "in  whom  I  have 
believed."  "  We  know"  says  John,  "that -we  have  passed 
from  death  unto  life."  "  We  know  that  we  are  in  the 
truth."  "  We  know  that  we  dwell  in  him."  Surely  we 
may  know  ourselves  here  as  certainly  as  on  any  ques- 
tion of  moral  character.  The  evidences  of  regenera- 
tion are  abundantly  revealed,  and  so  plainly  that  a  child 
can  understand  and  apply  them. 

A  true  Christian  loves  God — loves  the  moral  character 
of  God — loves  the  very  holiness  of  God — loves  the  very 
justice  of  God  which  condemns  his  iniquity.  This  love 
of  God  is  something  more  than  a  natural  gratitude  for 
God's  many  mercies.  It  is  a  changed  emotion  toward 
God — new,  filial,  delightful. 

A  true  Christian  believes  in  Christ — not  merely  with 
a  speculative  faith  that  he  was  a  divine  person,  and 
died  to  save  men ;  but  with  a  sweet  and  loving  trust, 
seeing  in  him  a  beauty  and  preciousness  as  his  Saviour, 
and  casting  himself  um-eservedly  for  salvation  upon  his 
glorious  grace. 

A  true  Christian  sincerely  repents  of  sin.  He  enter- 
tains for  it  not  merely  a  selfish  legal  soitow,  caused  by 
a  fear  of  its  punishment,  but  he  hates  sin,  self-con- 
sidered, on  account  of  its  own  odious  and  evil  nature. 

A  true  Christian  loves  the  duties  of  religion.     He  does 


120  SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 

not  indeed  always  enjoy  them  to  the  same  degree.  His 
Bible  sometimes  seems  to  him  a  sealed  book,  and  prayer 
a  barren  ordinance.  But  that  on  the  whole  he  finds 
pleasure  in  these  things  is  as  certain  to  himself  as  the 
gladness  to  his  senses  from  the  fair  sights  and  sounds  of 
the  glorious  creation. 

A  true  Christian  loves  his  brethren.  He  loves  them 
not  so  much  for  what  they  are  in  their  station  or  them- 
selves, as  because  they  are  Christians.  Because  Christ 
loves  them,  and  they  love  Christ.  He  delights  in  their 
company.  He  seeks  to  do  them  good.  And  he  knows 
that  he  hath  passed  from  death  unto  life  because  he 
loves  the  brethren. 

Now  these  are  some  of  the  more  obvious  evidences  of 
regeneration.  They  might  be  greatly  multiplied,  but 
these  are  sufficient.  If  a  man  be  certain  that  he  has 
one  positive  Christian  grace,  he  may  be  certain  that  he 
is  a  Christian,  for  the  graces  are  not  separable.  How 
strange,  then,  is  it  that  men  should  be  self-deceived  ! 
What  marvel  that  Paul,  in  the  text,  treats  this  self- 
ignorance  with  solemn  irony  !  Surely  a  man  may  know, 
indeed  must  know,  whether  he  love  his  parents,  his 
wife,  his  children.  And  why  may  he  not  know  as 
assuredly  whether  he  loves  God  !  Yea — know  more 
assuredly.  For  if  he  love  God  at  all,  it  is  a  new  love — 
a  love  taking  the  place  of  an  old  hatred — a  love  not 
natural  but  divinely  implanted — a  heavenly  grace,  as  a 
fruit  of  the  Spirit. 

Here,  then,  there  seems  indeed  scarcely  need  of  any 
moral  analysis.  In  the  winter  time,  it  may  require 
careful  scrutiny  to  decide  as  to  the  life  of  a  tree  in  your 
garden.      But  go  forth  in  the  warm,  genial  summer,  and 


SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  121 

the  veriest  child  beholding  either  its  bare  branches  or  its 
golden  fruit  can  decide  at  once,  and  unhesitatingly.  And 
so  it  is  of  Christian  character.  Are  you  bringing  forth 
fruit  meet  for  repentance — fruits  unto  godliness  ?  If  so, 
you  need  not  go  down  to  the  buried  roots  of  grace 
in  the  heart,  for  by  these  fruits  you  may  know  your- 
selves? 

Surely  on  this  point  there  need  be  no  self-deception. 
If  instead  of  ever  feeling  the  spiritual  pulse,  to  discern 
mayhap,  some  feeble,  fitful  heart-beat — we  spent  our 
days  in  a  vigorous  culture  of  that  spiritual  life,  making 
it  luxuriant  and  fragrant  with  the  bloom  and  aroma  of 
all  Christian  graces,  then  there  could  remain  no  ground 
of  question,  for  the  difference  between  the  converted 
and  unconverted  man  would  be  as  marked  and  marvel- 
ous, as  between  the  living  and  the  dead!  Then  no 
man  could  journey  to  eternity  in  fearful  self-ignorance. 
No  man,  in  the  inspiration  of  a  false  hope,  could  lie 
down  on  a  death-bed-  dreaming  of  heaven,  and  wake  up 
in  eternity  outcast  and  lost.  No  man  could  realize 
in  his  own  experience  this  fearful  picture  of  revelation — 
of  a  spirit  approaching  with  a  bounding  foot  and  a  joy- 
ous heart  the  heavenly  banqueting-house, — knocking 
hopefully  at  its  glorious  portal,  and  crying  as  if  denial 
were  impossible,  "  Lord,  Lord,  open  unto  us  /"  and  yet 
be  driven  away  with  the  fearful  denunciation,  "  Depart  ! 
Depart!  I  never  knew  you  /" 

Surely  men  may  know  themselves.  Surely  they 
should.  And  yet  alas,  alas  !  there  are  self-deceived  pro- 
fessors in  the  Church  of  Christ.  Dead  corpses,  wearing 
heavenly  flowers  and  white  raiment,  at  the  board  in  the 
guest-chamber !    neither    giving,  nor   having   any   true 


122  SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 

evidences  of  piety,  though  they  may  think  themselves 
Christians. 

Meanwhile,  secondly,  there  are  doubtless  some  in  the 
world,  not  members  of  the  Church,  nor  thinking  them- 
selves Christians,  who  are  yet  truly  regenerate,  and  real 
children  of  God.  The  occasions  and  causes  of  this 
strange  self-distrust  are  manifold. 

Sometimes  it  arises  from  -a  temperament  constitution- 
ally gloomy.  The  man  looks  habitually  on  the  dark 
side  of  every  thing.  Of  course  he  may  be  expected  to 
look  on  the  dark  side  of  his  own  religious  character. 
Even  in  regard  of  mortal  and  earthly  conditions,  he 
turns  away  from  sunshine  to  dwell  in  shadows,  and  of 
course  his  souVs  tabernacle  is  ever  pitched,  not  on  the 
sunny  hill-side,  but  in  valleys  of  gloom. 

Then,  sometimes  this  self-distrust  is  but  a  temporary 
result  of  bodily  infirmity.  A  shattered  nervous  system, 
imperfect  digestion,  secretion,  circulation — these  things, 
and  such  as  these,  perform  the  functions,  and  assume  the 
very  character  of  an  accusing  conscience.  And  what 
the  man  wants  to  make  him  a  hopeful  and  joyous  Chris- 
tian, is  bodily  regimen  and  exercise,  and  not  theological 
casuistry.  You  might  as  well  exercise  your  logic  upon 
dyspepsia,  or  rheumatism,  or  the  toothache,  as  to  reason 
such  a  spirit  out  of  its  religious  despondency.  The 
gloom  results  from  physical  condition ;  and  to  physical 
condition,  and  not  conscience,  must  the  remedy  be  ap- 
plied. 

Sometimes,  again,  this  self-distrust  arises  from  an  over- 
estimate of  the  particular  maimer,  or  circumstances  of 
conversion.  Having  heard  or  read  of  some  men's  pecu- 
liar exercises  in  regeneration,  wherein  deep  distress  was 


SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  123 

followed  by  instantaneous  and  extravagant  rapture,  they 
will  rest  satisfied  with  nothing  but  just  such  an  expe- 
rience. So  they  go  heavily  burdened  and  without  hope. 
They  can  not  tell  the  day  nor  the  hour  of  a  demonstrative 
regeneration.  They  can  not  even  tell  of  any  sermon,  or 
text  of  Scripture,  or  special  providence  of  God,  which 
the  Holy  Ghost  employed  to  arouse  their  attention  to 
spiritual  things.  They  can  indeed  perceive  a  decided, 
yea,  a  radical  change  in  their  own  feelings  and  conduct. 
Things  they  once  loved  they  now  hate.  Things  they 
once  did,  they  now  shrink  from.  Herein  "  old  things 
have  passed  away,  and  behold  all  things  have  become 
new."  But  the  manner  and  manifestation  of  the  change 
does  not  satisfy  their  conscience.  As  if  it  mattered  how 
a  blind  man's  eyes  were  opened,  if  he  perfectly  see  !  or 
with  what  instrumentality  of  rope  or  life-boat  the  drown- 
ing man  was  saved,  when  he  stands  safe  upon  the  shore  ! 
Then,  again,  men  sometimes  are  led  into  this  self-dis- 
trust by  assuming  false  tests  and  standards  of  Christian 
character.  They  entertain  extravagant  notions  of  the 
effects  even  of  regeneration.  They  have  read  the  reli- 
gious biographies  of  distinguished  Christians — perhaps 
their  own  journals  and  diaries  written  in  secret,  but  yet 
written  to  be  published — pitiful  skeleton-abridgments  of 
the  man's  real  history — minced  and  meagre  epitomes  of 
his  veritable  experience — wherein  mention  is  often  made 
of  frames  of  deep  humility,  and  strong  faith,  and  ardent 
love — of  exercises  of  repentance,  and  consolation,  and 
rapture — of  days  of  fasting  and  nights  of  prayer,  as  if 
life  were  uninterrupted  in  its  wrapt  communion  with 
God.  But  wherein  there  is  no  mention  at  all  of  expe- 
riences as  real  and  positive,  of  sinful  thoughts  and  carnal 


124  SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 

desires,  and  perhaps  even  of  deeds  flagrantly  evil.  And 
thus  the  humble  man,  finding  in  his  own  personal  expe- 
rience so  much  of  remaining  corruption,  and  in  this 
recorded  experience  of  others,  so  little  of  any  thing  but 
high  frames  of  godliness,  turns  away  in  despair,  beguiled 
of  all  comforting  hope  by  these  men's  pretentious  dis- 
honesty in  concealing  their  own  manifold  short-comings. 
I  say  their  dishonesty — for  while  they  may  not  have 
exaggerated  their  frames  of  piety,  they  have  carefully 
suppressed  all  record  of  their  carnal  frames — giving  only 
half  a  truth,  which  in  effect  and  reality  is  a  whole  false- 
hood, leading  men  to  believe  that  regeneration  makes  a 
man  at  once  and  positively  an  angel,  and  therefore  to  be 
satisfied  with  no  evidences  of  piety  short  of  an  angel's 
flaming  heart  and  up-soaring  pinion  ! 

Now,  these  are  but  specimens  (and  we  have  no  limits 
for  others)  of  the  causes  or  occasions  of  self-distrust, 
whereby  men  genuinely  converted  to  God  are  kept  in 
despondency,  and  hindered  from  professing  Christ  before 
men.  These,  and  all  such  causes,  are  included  in  one 
general  one — not  a  want  of  sufficient  evidence,  but  a 
wrong  standard  of  judgment.  The  man  does  not  go 
directly  to  the  Bible  to  learn  what,  as  exhibited  either 
in  its  positive  precepts,  or  its  sainted  biographies,  are 
the  true  evidences  of  conversion.  He  takes  counsel, 
rather,  sometimes  of  his  own  morbidly  sensitive  con- 
science, and  sometimes  of  men  who  live  mainly  in 
emotions.  And  he  will  often  urge  as  reasons  why  he 
can  not  believe  himself  a  Christian,  those  very  feelings 
and  frames  of  mind  which  the  Bible  sets  forth  as  the 
"fruits  of  the  Spirit," 

These,  then,  are  the  two  classes  which  the  text  con- 


SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  125 

templates,  as  men  who  " know  not  their  own  selves;" — 
men  self-deceived,  "who  are  not  Christians — men  self- 
distrustful,  who  are. 

And  now,  interrupting  for  the  present  this  train  of 
thought,  let  me  close  with  some  words  of  personal  ex- 
hortation. 

First. —  To  the  self-deceived,  how  earnestly  does  the 
text  appeal !  Beloved  hearers,  to  be  in  the  Church 
without  piety  is  perhaps  of  all  conditions  on  earth  the 
most  dreadful.  Not  because  false  professors  are  more 
sinful  than  other  men — though  even  this  may  be  true, 
for  the  common  human  conscience  will  regard  the  sin 
of  Judas  as  greater  than  that  of  Pilate — but  because 
there  is  less  hope  of  their  conviction  of  sin,  and,  conse- 
quently, of  their  conversion,  than  if  they  had  not  found 
rest  for  a  guilty  conscience  in  a  fair,  though  false, 
refuge. 

Let  us,  then,  be  willing  "  to  know  our  own  selves  /" — 
to  know  the  very  worst  of  our  character  and  condition  ! 
Surely  we  maybe  undeceived.  The  man  who  consciously 
delights  even  in  secret  iniquities — who  feels  in  his  heart 
that  he  is  a  dishonest  man,  or  an  untruthful  man,  or  an 
impure  man — who  hath  no  delight  in  God's  service  and 
ordinances — who  exhibits  in  his  daily  life  none  of  the 
gracious  fruits  of  the  Spirit — that  man  may  surely  know 
that,  however  excited  at  times  may  be  his  emotions, 
"  he  is  yet  in  the  gall  of  bitterness  and  in  the  bond 
of  iniquity." 

The  whole  Bible  represents  the  visible  Church  as 
embracing  many  members  who  will  finall}r  be  lost. 
We  may  really  think  ourselves  Christians,  and  yet  not 
be    Christians.      And   here,    as    elsewhere,   honesty   of 


126  SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 

opinion  neither  excuses  its  falseness,  nor  averts  its  fatal 
issues.  Mistaken  and  misguided  sincerity  can  not  con- 
trol the  mighty  workings  of  God's  government  that  are 
bearing  him  to  destruction.  If  a  man  drink  a  poison- 
cup,  thinking  the  draught  living- water,  still  the  hemlock 
will  destroy  him.  If  a  man,  really  believing  he  can  fly, 
fling  himself  from  a  precipice,  he  will  yet  none  the  less  be 
dashed  in  pieces.  A  mistake  as  to  the  reality  of  per- 
sonal religion  is  absolutely  fatal.  It  is  the  immortal  spirit 
that  drinks  the  deadly  drug,  and  springs  a  suicide  from 
the  precipice.  O  God !  give  us  the  wisdom  that  is 
willing  to  know  the  worst,  so  that  if  this  day  wTe  are 
counted  with  the  foolish  virgins,  we  may  at  once  flee 
unto  the  Redeemer  for  regenerating  grace,  and  have  oil 
for  our  lamps,  ere  the  self-deceived  soul  be  startled  from 
dreams  of  heaven  into  everlasting  despair  by  the  mid- 
night cry  that  heralds  the  Bridegroom. 

Secondly. — The  text  speaks  as  earnestly  to  the  self- 
distrustful — those  who  have  been  truly  converted,  and 
have  neither  the  confidence  nor  the  comfort  of  the  chil- 
dren of  God, — those  who  really  hate  sin  and  love  the 
Saviour,  and  yet,  because  they  find  a  remaining  carnality, 
a  law  of  sin,  in  the  members,  warring  with  holiness  ;  or 
because  they  can  not  tell  when  or  how  they  were  con- 
verted, or  do  not  experience  the  peculiar  raptures  which 
they  have  heard  or  read  of  in  the  lives  of  professing 
Christians,  will  see  in  themselves  no  evidence  of  con- 
version. These  men  the  text  exhorts  unto  hopeful  self- 
knowledge.  It  sets  forth  faith,  and  not  feeling,  as  the 
evidence  of  piety. 

Dear  friends,  your  trust  for  salvation  is  not  in  what 
you  are,  but  what  Christ  is.     If,  with  a  penitent,  and 


SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  127 

believing,  and  loving  heart,  you  cast  yourselves  upon 
the  Redeemer,  then  you  /enow  you  are  Christians ! 
For  he  says  you  shall  "  in  no  wise  be  cast  out,"  and 
"  shall  never  perish  !"  And  thus  "  knowing  your  own 
selves,"  your  place  should  be  in  Christ's  visible  Church. 
He  commands  you  to  enter  it.  His  words  to  you  are 
personal  and  explicit — aDo  this  in  remembrance  of  me.'''' 
And  as  these  sacramental  seasons  go  by,  and  you  turn 
even  sadly  away  from  them — ah,  me !  how  you  slight 
and  grieve  your  gracious  Redeemer !  You  say  practi- 
cally— and  heaven,  and  earth,  and  hell  give  heed  to  the 
utterance, — you  say,  " I will  not  remember  thee!  Those 
tears — those  blood-drops — those  wounded  hands,  and  head, 
and  heart — those  mighty  dying  agonies — oh,  let  their 
record  perish  !  Oh,  let  them  be  blotted  forever  from  my 
memory !" 

And  treating  Jesus  thus — though  it  be  in  honest  self- 
distrust,  yet  a  distrust  that  dishonors  his  loving-kindness 
— what  marvel  that  he  hides  his  face  from  you — that 
your  hearts  do  not  rise  into  rapture  with  the  full  hope 
of  salvation ! 

Thirdly. — The  text  speaks  most  earnestly  to  the  openly 
impenitent;  men  neither  professing  nor  p>ossessing  Chris- 
tianity. In  one  sense,  indeed,  these  men  do  "know  their 
own  selves."  They  know  that  they  are  unconverted; 
that  they  have  neither  part  nor  lot  in  the  great  salva- 
tion. They  are  not  hypocrites,  for  they  do  not  make 
false  professions.  Nevertheless,  they  do  make  pjublic  and 
most  fearful  professions!  They  profess  to  be  the  ene- 
mies of  God  !  They  stand  boldly  in  the  ranks  of  rebel- 
lion against  Jehovah.  Alas,  beloved  and  misguided 
hearers,  in  this  great  matter  there  is  no  neutrality  !     He 


128  SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 

that  is  not  with  Christ  is  against  him.  You  turn  away 
from,  you  renounce,  you  scorn  our  sacraments.  But  you 
have  your  own!  You  are  baptized  unto  death.  Your 
communion  is  with  hell! 

Pause,  then,  this  day  in  your  dark  and  dreadful  ini- 
quity !  Take  account  of  your  doings  !  "  Know  ye  not 
your  own  selves?" — that  you  are  not  beasts  that  perish, 
but  creatures  instinct  with  immortality !  Two  eternal 
worlds  watch  you  and  strive  for  you. 

"Hell  moves  beneath  to  work  your  death, 
Heaven  stoops  to  give  you  life." 

And  are  you  willing  to  be  lost  ?  To  be  lost  for  these 
poor  phantasms  of  time,  that  recede  as  you  pursue,  and 
vanish  as  you  touch  them  ?  Oh !  pause  in  your  mad 
career !  Pause  ere  it  be  too  late !  ere  the  blood  be  all 
gone  from  the  cross !  Oh,  come  to  Christ  Jesus  for  life 
—for  life ! 

FoitrtJdy,  and  finally. — The  text  speaks  earnestly  to 
the  Church,  There  is,  as  we  have  already  said,  a  terri- 
ble irony  in  its  question.  It  intimates  that  between  the 
professing  people  of  God  and  the  world  there  is  so  little 
visible  difference  that  it  is  difficult  to  distinguish  them. 
That  in  the  husbandry  of  God  there  is  so  little  fruit  of 
the  Spirit,  that  it  is  a  hard  matter  to  find  out  even  what 
trees  are  good.  Now,  although  this  is  not  true  in  all 
cases,  yet  alas !  in  many  cases  it  is.  So  little  do  some 
professing  Christians  live  like  the  children  of  God,  that 
only  on  sacramental  sabbaths, — only  four  tunes  a  year, 
— do  they  even  look  like  Christians!  On  all  other  days 
of  the  week,  sacred  or  secular,  they  are  in  no  respect  a 
peculiar  people. 


SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  129 

Surely,  then,  O  beloved  children  of  God,  it  is  time 
for  us  to  rise  into  higher  frames  and  spheres  of  religions 
life. 

We  have  come  from  the  communion.  We  are  there- 
fore re-consecrate !  And  we  feel  to-day  that  such  re- 
consecration  was  due  unto  our  Saviour.  Oh,  "  he  was 
bruised  for  our  iniquity !"  We  saw  it.  We  felt  it ! 
That  "body" — the  body  of  the  Incarnate  God, — was 
"broken''''  for  our  iniquity.  That  "blood,'1''  that  mysteri- 
ous blood  of  an  Incarnate  God,  Avas  "shed"  for  our 
iniquity !  Here,  here,  were  unto  us  the  memorials  of  a 
divine  consecration !  All  the  works  of  God,  all  the 
riches  of  God,  all  the  attributes  of  God,  all  the  persons 
of  God,  consecrated  unto  us/  "All  things  present" — 
this  universal  range  and  power  of  the  economy  of  Provi- 
dence ;  "  all  things  to  come " — all  that  higher  economy 
of  the  eternal  world — thrones,  crowns,  white  robes,  heav- 
enly mansions — all — all  consecrate  to  us  !  God  having 
given  them  to  be  ours,  and  using  them  henceforth  for 
our  good  and  glory. 

And  surely,  then,  our  consecration  should  be  perfect ! 
Such  was  our  profession.  We  did  bring  them  all — talents, 
possessions,  influence,  time,  all  we  have,  all  we  are, — we 
brought  them  all  and  laid  them  on  God's  altar  in  holy 
consecration,  taking  them  into  our  hands  again  as  things 
of  a  stewardship,  to  be  used  for  God's  glory !  Let  us 
then  respect  the  consecration.  Let  us  live  as  becomes 
lis ;  live  as  if  a  Christian  was  separate  from  the  world ; 
as  if  the  children  of  God  were  "a  peculiar  people."  Let 
us  so  live  that  all  men  must  perceive  and  acknowledge 
our  piety. 

Let  us  so  grow  in  grace  that  hereafter  we  shall  not 
6* 


130  SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 

need  to  self- examine  ourselves  with,  the  sensitive  finger 
carefully  on  the  pulse  to  detect,  haply,  a  fitful  beating  of 
life.  But,  as  wisely  "knowing  our  own  selves,"  we  shall 
be  joyously  confident  that  we  are  strong  men  in  Christ 
Jesus,  because  our  eyes  flash,  and  our  hearts  beat,  and 
our  feet  bound  in  the  high  courses  of  a  heavenly  and 
obedient  life ! 


CHRISTIAN    INFLUENCE. 


"  Now  the  man,  out  of  whom  the  devils  were  departed,  besought  him 
ffiat  he  might  be  with  him :  but  Jesus  sent  him  away,  saijing,  Return  to 
thine  own  house,  and  show  how  great  things  God  hoih  done  unto  thee." — 
Luke,  viii,  38,  39. 

In-  our  study  of  tneology,  whether  natural  or  revealed, 
we  should  never  lose  sight  of  the  great  truth — that  God's 
thoughts  are  not  our  thoughts,  neither  are  God's  ways 
our  ways.  Our  chief  difficulties  in  pondering  God's 
providential  and  gracious  economies,  arise  from  our  fool- 
ish endeavors  to  lift  human  reason  from  its  true  place  of 
scholarship  to  its  false  place  of  criticism,  in  forgetfulness 
of  the  truth,  that  as  the  heavens  are  higher  than  the 
earth,  so  are  God's  thoughts  higher  than  our  thoughts, 
and  his  ways  than  our  ways.  We  do  not  say  that  man 
should  not  reason  about  Divine  truth,  whether  natural  or 
revealed.  On  the  contrary,  we  know  that  reason  is  the 
only  faculty  whereby  truth  can  be  apprehended  ;  and  so, 
every  presentation  of  truth  is  a  Divine  appeal  unto  rea- 
son— and  he  that  can  not  reason  is  an  idiot,  and  he  that 
dare  not  reason  is  a  slave.  And  yet,  in  approaching 
truth  as  it  has  to  do  with  Divine  things,  sound  reason 
would  lead  us  to  expect  much  that  is  mysterious  and  in- 
comprehensible, and  to  be  received  simply  on  Divine  au- 
thority— -faith,  and  not  science  being  the  law  of  our 
scholarship. 


132  CHRISTIAN    INFLUENCE. 

Quito  manifest  it  is  that,  alike  in  nature  and  revela- 
tion, God  neither  thinks  nor  acts  according  to  man's 
standard  of  wisdom.  God  did  not  make  the  world  as  a 
wise  man  would  have  made  it ;  God  does  not  govern  the 
world  as  a  wise  man  would  govern  it ;  God  has  not  writ- 
ten the  Bible  as  a  wise  man  would  have  written  it.  To 
this  truth  we  must  all  come  at  last ;  and  the  sooner  the 
better,  for  our  profit  and  consolation — for  we  shall  in- 
crease in  the  true  knowledge  of  God  only  when,  and 
precisely  as,  our  finite  and  imperfect  reason  sinks  from 
its  false  place  of  criticism  of  God's  doings,  into  its  true 
place  of  scholarship  at  God's  feet. 

God's  ways  are  not  our  ways — God  does  not  do  things 
as  we  would  do  them.  This  is  the  first  thing  we  must 
thoroughly  understand  as  students  of  theology.  Of  this 
important  truth  we  have  an  illustration  in  the  text.  It 
is  part  of  the  record  of  Christ's  miracle  in  the  country  of 
the  Gadarenes.  Having  stilled  the  storm  on  Tiberias, 
he  went  forth  from  the  ship  with  his  disciples,  and 
"  there  met  him  out  of  the  city  a  certain  man,  which  had 
devils  long  time,  and  ware  no  clothes,  neither  abode  in 
any  house,  but  in  the  tombs."  A  man  so  fearfully  pos- 
sessed, that  he  brake  in  pieces  the  fetters  and  chains 
wherewith  he  was  bound,  and  was  driven  of  the  devil 
into  the  wilderness,  a  torture  unto  himself,  and  a  terror 
unto  all  men.  Out  of  this  poor  demoniac,  Christ  com- 
manded the  unclean  spirit  to  depart ;  and  he  sat  clothed 
and  in  his  right  mind,  trustful  and  loving  at  his  Saviour's 
feet.  And  then  and  there  he  uttered  the  prayer  re- 
corded in  the  text — "lie  besought  Jesus  that  he  might 
be  with  him." 

Now  we   say,   had   God's   thoughts    been   as    man's 


CHRISTIAN'    INFLUENCE.  133 

thoughts,  this  prayer  would  have  been  answered.  We 
can  hardly  imagine  a  more  acceptable  prayer  than  this. 
Whatever  may  have  been  the  motive  that  inspired  it — 
whether  love  for  the  Saviour's  person,  or  gratitude  for 
his  deliverance,  or  consecration  to  his  service,  it  must 
seem  to  us  commendable.  Meanwhile,  we  can  perceive 
great  benefits  likely  to  result  from  his  following  Jesus, 
which,  according  to  man's  wisdom,  would  have  secured 
the  prayer's  answer. 

How  good,  seemingly,  it  would  have  been  for  the  man 
himself,  to  be  ever  with  the  Saviour,  listening  to  his 
gracious  instructions,  and  living  in  the  sanctifying  power 
of  his  presence  !  How  good,  as  well,  for  others  !  Oh, 
what  a  witness  for  Christ  he  might  have  been,  in  the 
midst  of  the  multitudes  that  followed  his  footsteps ! 
What  sermons  he  could  have  preached  of  Christ's  power 
and  grace  before  Scribe  and  Pharisee  in  the  streets  of 
Jerusalem !  Surely,  had  man  been  the  arbiter,  this 
earnest  prayer  of  the  restored  man  to  be  with  his  Lord 
would  have  been  graciously  answered.  But  man's 
thoughts  are  not  God's  thoughts.  The  prayer  was  not 
answered.     "  Jesus  sent  him  away  /" 

Now,  from  this  record  we  may  learn  some  simple  les- 
sons of  practical  instruction.  As  we  have  often  shown 
you,  these  miracles  of  Christ  are  to  be  regarded  as  prac- 
tical parables,  beautifully  illustrating  the  working  of 
Divine  grace  in  salvation,  and  imparting  important  in- 
struction as  to  spiritual  duties.  And  regarding  Christ's 
treatment  of  this  restored  man,  as  in  entire  analogy  with 
his  treatment  of  true  Christians,  let  us  learn 

First — A  lesson  in  regard  to  GocVs  answering  of 
pi-ayer. 


134  CHRISTIAN    INFLUENCE. 

As  we  have  said,  here  was  a  prayer  which  was  seem- 
ingly proper,  and  right,  and  good,  and  yet  seemingly 
unanswered.  And  how  are  we  to  explain  this  ?  Does 
not  God  positively  px-omise  to  hear  and  answer  prayers, 
that  are  proper  and  good?  And  are  God's  promises 
conditional  ?  Are  they  not  all  "  yea  and  amen  in  Christ 
Jesus  ?"  Is  it,  after  all,  amid  uncertainties  and  contin- 
gencies, pressed  down  with  doubts  and  sadly  distrust- 
ful, that  we  are  to  approach  the  mercy-seat  ?  If  our 
prayers  are  proper  and  right,  both  in  their  spirit  and 
their  objects,  may  we  not  come  to  the  throne  of  grace 
assured  that  they  will  be  answered  ?  To  which  I  an- 
swer, first — That  according  to  the  principle  just  insisted 
on,  that  God's  thoughts  are  not  our  thoughts,  no  man  is 
competent  to  decide  positively  whether  the  prayer  he 
offers  is  in  the  right  spirit.  The  petition  of  this  Gada- 
rene  may  have  originated  in  a  selfish  desire  to  be  happy 
in  Christ's  presence,  rather  than  useful  in  his  service. 
And  if  so,  it  was  self-considered,  an  improper  prayer, 
and  not  to  be  answered.  And  so  of  other  prayers.  We 
must  be  more  than  finite  ;  we  must  rise  actually  into  the 
infinite,  so  that  God's  thoughts  become  our  thoughts, 
before  we  can  sufficiently  analyze  our  motives,  and 
frames,  and  feelings  in  prayer,  to  decide,  in  any  given 
case,  that  it  is  proper  and  acceptable. 

But  we  remark,  secondly — That,  even  were  we  certain 
that  the  pi-ayer  is  such  as  God  promises  to  answer,  there 
remains  still  a  more  important  point  to  be  considered, 
viz.,  the  best  way  of  answering  it.  If  the  Gadarene 
prayed  properly,  desiring  only  his  own  greatest  good 
and  God's  greatest  glory,  then  Christ  may  have  seen 
that  he  would  grow  more  rapidly  in  grace,  and  bring 


CHRISTIAN    INFLUENCE.  135 

move  honor  to  his  Saviour,  by  remaining  among  his  own 
countrymen ;  and  thus  really  answered  his  petition  by 
sending  him  away.  And  so  it  is  always.  God  will 
assuredly  answer  all  prayers  that  are  proper  and  good  ; 
but  then  he  answers  them  in  his  own  way,  and  according 
to  his  own  higher  wisdom.  We  can  indeed  cast  our- 
selves, in  entire  confidence,  upon  God's  faithful  promises, 
relying  on  his  absolute  omnipotence  as  pledged  to  the 
prayer-answering.  But,  meanwhile,  we  must  equally 
cast  ourselves  upon  his  absolute  omniscience,  as  to  the 
time,  and  form,  and  manner  of  the  specific  answer. 
Here,  again,  God's  ways  are  not  our  ways.  The  Chris- 
tian prays  to  be  sanctified ;  and  this  is  a  good  prayer, 
and  if  offered  in  a  right  spirit  is  sure  to  be  answered. 
But  how?  Ah,  not  according  to  the  man's  thouo-hts! 
God  hiys  his  strong  hand  upon  the  man's  idols.  He 
takes  away  his  property ;  he  takes  away  his  health ;  he 
takes  away  his  comforts;  he  lays  the  beloved  of  his 
home  and  heart  into  the  unpitying  grave — thus  weaken- 
ing his  affections  for  the  earthly  and  the  carnal.  "  Ah," 
but  says  the  Christian,  "  this  is  not  what  I  meant !"  Be 
it  so;  yet  if  you  prayed  sincerely  to  be  sanctified,  this  is 
precisely  what  you  asked  for — for  this  is  sanctification ! 
The  nestling  eaglet  looks  up  to  the  majestic  flight  of  the 
soaring  eagle  through  heaven,  and  says,  "Oh,  that  I 
could  soar  as  bravely !  teach  me,  teach  me  to  fly !" 
And,  as  if  in  answer  to  the  wish,  the  parent-bird  de- 
scends, and  tears  the  soft  nesj;  in  pieces,  forcing  the  rest- 
ful brood  forth  to  the  sweeping  winds.  And  though  to 
the  young  bird  it  may  seem  almost  cruel,  yet  it  is  just 
what  it  longed  for — this  is  teaching  it  to  fly !  And  so  is 
it  always  in  God's  treatment  of  his  children.     He  an- 


136  CHRISTIAN   INFLUENCE. 

swers  their  prayers,  but  in  his  own  way — for  his  thoughts 
are  not  our  thoughts. 

But  passing  now  from  this  great  lesson  of  prayer,  and 
considering  the  text  as  containing  important  parabolic 
instruction,  we  learn  here  several  lessons  as  to  practical 
Christian  influence. 

We  leaxxXyflrst,  the  importance  of  such  Christian  influ- 
ence. 

The  text  most  impressively  teaches  us  that  the  law  of 
Christian  life  is  not  spiritual  enjoyment,  but  usefulness. 
Had  Christ  regarded  the  mere  comfort  of  the  restored 
Gadarene,  he  would  have  granted  his  request,  and  taken 
him  with  him  to  Galilee.  But  he  sends  him  away,  to  be 
a  blessing  to  his  countrymen.  And  so  it  is  with  the 
Christian.  If  the  end  of  his  conversion  were  his  own 
spiritual  enjoyment,  then,  as  soon  as  he  is  converted,  he 
would  be  translated  to  Christ's  presence  in  glory.  The 
moment  a  man  believes,  that  moment  he  is  justified; 
and,  as  a  justified  man,  has  a  clear  and  sure  title  to  the 
heavenly  inheritance.  And,  although  we  can  perceive 
much  in  this  earthly  life  that  renders  it  a  fine  economy 
of  spiritual  discipline,  so  that  the  longer  we  struggle  in 
the  flesh  the  better  we  shall  be  fitted  for  heaven ;  yet, 
inasmuch  as  sanctification  is  always  perfected  at  death, 
it  must  seem  to  us,  on  the  whole,  as  to  Paul,  better  to 
depart  and  be  with  Jesus.  Sure  we  are,  a  year  spent  in 
celestial  glory  is  better  for  a  soul  than  a  year  spent  in 
terrestrial  grace.  And  so  we  may  be  certain,  that,  were 
a  man's  own  enjoyment  the  grand  end  of  his  conversion, 
then  the  great  change  of  regeneration  would  be  followed 
instantly  by  his  translation  to  Paradise.  But  this  is  not 
the  grand  end,  and  therefore  he  is  not  thus  translated. 


CHRISTIAN    INFLUENCE.  137 

If  you  can  separate  in  your  thought  things  that  belong 
philosophically  together,  and  are  therefore  inseparable, 
we  might  declare,  that  a  man  is  not  converted  that  he 
may  be  happy,  but  rather  that  he  may  be  useful — "  that 
others  may  see  his  good  works,  and  glorify  his  Father 
who  is  in  heaven.'''' 

There  is  nothing  falser  and  fouler,  than  that  low,  nar- 
row, selfish  idea  of  conversion  which  regards  it  only  as 
the  condition  whereby  the  man  escapes  from  hell  and 
gets  into  heaven.  If  such  conversion  makes  a  man  good, 
it  is  a  goodness  out  of  harmony  with  all  other  good 
things.  God's  great  law  of  goodness  is  not  absorption, 
but  diffusion.  All  God's  glorious  things,  from  a  flower 
of  the  field  to  a  star  in  the  firmament,  are  not  receptacles, 
but  fountains.  No  man  ever  thought  of  one  of  God's 
angels  as  sitting  selfishly  on  a  heavenly  throne,  contem- 
plating in  indolent  rapture  the  sceptre  he  is  wielding, 
and  the  diadem  he  weai*s.  And  if  one  of  those  profess- 
ing Christians,  who  think  that  all  God  requires  of  them 
is  just  to  get  themselves  to  glory,  is  a  true  child  of  God, 
then  he  lacks  at  least  one  evidence  of  sonship — he  does 
not  resemble  his  great  Father.  He  is  begotten  in  the 
very  image  of  the  infidel's  God — that  abstract  and  indo- 
lent omnipotence,  that  reposes  in  contemplative  majesty 
behind  the  elements  of  Nature,  that  do  all  his  work  for 
him — and  has  no  likeness  unto  Jehovah,  that  immense 
and  omni-operative  Spirit,  pervading  all  space  with  an 
active  and  beneficent  energy. 

Of  one  thing  are  we  certain,  that  every  converted 
soul  is  designed  by  Jehovah  to  be  "  the  light  of  the 
world."  And  its  use,  like  other  light,  is  not  to  keep 
itself  safe  and  warm  under  a  bushel,  but  to  burn  itself 


138  CHRISTIAN'    INFLUENCE. 

out  on  a  candlestick,  that  it  may  give  light  to  all  that 
are  in  the  house.  Alas,  how  fearful  the  exclamation  of 
our  Lord  in  regard  of  all  selfish  and  inefficient  piety — 
"If  the  light  that  is  in  thee  be  darkness,  hoiv  great  is  that 
darkness  /"  There  is  no  image  more  terrible  than  this — 
an  eclipsed  luminary !  A  star  in  the  night,  or  a  sun  at 
noonday,  ceasing  suddenly  to  shine  !  Nay,  an  orb  that 
should  be  radiating  light,  absolutely  radiating  darkness  / 
Oh,  careless  and  inactive  and  slumbering  professor  of 
religion,  regarding  your  Christian  hope  as  a  fragment  of 
the  mortal  wreck  whereon  you  are  to  be  floated  to  glory, 
and  not  a  buoyant  life-boat,  with  which  you  are  to  save 
your  fellow-castaways  from  the  raging  water,  would  I 
could  bring  this  truth  home  fittingly  to  your  heart  and 
mind  !  "  Ye  are  the  light  of  the  world!''''  and  a  light  is 
kindled  to  shine.  See  that  keeper  of  the  beacon,  on  a 
rocky  promontory  in  a  stormy  midnight !  We  look 
forth  upon  the  raging  sea,  and  lo,  by  the  flashes  of  light- 
ning, we  behold  laboring  barks  driving  fiercely  before 
the  tempest.  We  look  upward  to  the  watch-towei',  and 
the  beacon  shines  not.  In  wild  alarm  for  the  imperiled 
seamen,  we  hurry  to  the  keeper's  chamber.  We  find 
him  sitting  at  his  ease,  by  a  loaded  board  and  a  blazing 
hearth.  We  cry  out,  "  What  are  you  doing  ?"  And  he 
answers,  "  Oh,  I  am  taking  care  of  myself;  there  is  a 
wild  night  outside,  and  I  have  sheltered  me  from  the 
storm,  and  am  making  myself  comfortable."  And  your 
cry  in  indignant  response  is,  "  Hut  ioho  sent  you  here  to 
be  comfortable  ?  Why,  this  very  watch-tower,  these  very 
walls,  these  very  fagots  and  oil,  have  been  gathered 
round  you,  not  for  your  own  comfort,  but  for  your  busi- 
ness of  light-keeping !     Up  from  your  pleasure !  away 


CHRISTIAN'    INFLUENCE.  139 

from  your  board  and  hearth !  kindle  the  beacon !  let  the 
light  shine !" 

And  think  you  the  Divine  cry  is  less  indignant  unto 
a  professing  Christian  at  ease  in  Zion  ?  The  law  of  all 
holy  life  is,  not  enjoyment,  but  usefulness.  An  angel 
in  heaven,  who  should  choose  rather  to  repose  in  his 
glorious  palace  than  to  rush  abroad  at  the  Divine  com- 
mandment, even  through  the  outer  darkness  of  the  uni- 
verse, would  be  cast  down  from  his  throne  as  a  rebel- 
lious spirit.  And  if  Jesus  Christ  should  descend  again 
to  the  earth,  dwelling  as  of  old  time  with  mortals,  and 
one  of  these  very  happy  and  indolent  Christians  should 
come  to  him,  saying,  "  O  Lord  Jesus,  precious  Saviour, 
let  me  ever  sit  at  thy  feet  in  love,  and  rapture,  and 
worship  !"  then,  sure  I  am  Christ  would  frown  on  him 
as  a  slumbering  and  selfish  disciple,  and,  like  the  re- 
stored man  of  Gadara,  "  would  send  him  away.'''' 

Passing  this,  we  learn  from  the  text,  secondly,  The 
secret,  or  element,  of  all  true  Christian  influence. 

Our  Lord  sent  this  restored  man  away,  that  he  might 
bear  witness  for  God  unto  his  kinsfolk  and  countrymen. 
But  how  Avas  he  to  bear  witness?  Why,  simply  by 
making  it  manifest  that  the  devil  had  gone  out  of  him. 
Had  he  returned,  seemingly,  in  disposition  and  charac- 
ter, an  unchanged  man  to  his  kinsfolk,  then,  though  he 
had  talked  as  eloquently  as  an  angel  about  Christ,  the 
Wonder-worker,  they  had  laughed  him  to  scora.  He 
did  indeed  talk  of  Christ,  for  his  tongue  could  not  keep 
silent.  But  the  power  of  his  witness  was  not  in  his  lips, 
but  his  life.  They  saw  that  he  was  a  changed  man. 
He,  that  in  times  past  had  walked  in  lone  places  in  the 
wilderness,  a  terror  to  his  race ;  whom  fetters  could  not 


140  CHRISTIAN'    INFLUENCE. 

bind,  nor  dungeons  restrain ;  whose  dwelling  was  in  the 
tombs,  and  whose  life  was  self-torture ;  he,  now  clothed 
and  in  his  right  mind,  came  a  gentle,  peaceful,  loving 
man  of  God,  to  the  streets  of  the  city,  and  the  home  of 
his  children.  And  men  saw  it,  and  marveled.  Here 
Avas  a  miracle !  Something  too  merciful  to  be  believed, 
save  on  the  evidence  of  their  own  senses.  A  hundred 
men  might  have  come  from  Galilee,  telling  these  Gada- 
renes  of  Christ,  the  Worker  of  Miracles,  and  yet  all 
their  arguments  and  eloquence  would  have  been  as 
nothing,  to  one  hour's  converse  with  this  restored  man 
— yesterday  known  to  all  as  a  raging  demoniac,  to-day 
a  gentle  and  loving  companion,  in  his  right  mind. 
His  power  of  testimony  for  Jesus  was  the  power  of  his 
life. 

And  in  this  lies  the  secret  of  all  true  Christian  influ- 
ence. It  is  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  to  talk  about 
religion.  But  mere  talk  about  religion  is  the  poorest 
thing  in  the  world.  Every  true  Christian  will  indeed 
talk  about  his  Saviour.  Out  of  the  abundance  of  the 
heart  the  mouth  speaketh.  And  if  the  voice  does  not 
speak  for  Christ,  sure  you  may  be  the  soul  is  not  filled 
with  Christ.  Nevertheless,  here  as  elsewhere,  the  utter- 
ance of  the  lips  is  as  nothing  to  the  influence  of  the 
life.  In  the  Divine  economy  all  grand  forces  are  com- 
paratively gentle  and  silent.  The  shallow  rill,  that  is 
dry  on  the  mountain-side  half  the  year,  brawls  more 
noisily  at  times  than  yon  mighty  river.  The  boy's 
sparkling  rocket  makes  a  louder  demonstration  in  the 
night  air  than  all  God's  starry  constellations.  And  yet, 
in  the  silence  of  their  sublime  manifestations,  how  elo- 
quently do  these  great  forces  of  the  universe  bear  wit- 


CHRISTIAN    INFLUENCE.  141 

ness  for  God !  And  so  it  is  of  moral  forces.  The  gentle 
movement  of  this  restored  man,  amid  his  wondering 
countrymen,  did  more  to  convince  them  of  Christ's 
saving  power,  than  a  thousand  noisy  utterances.  And  so 
is  it  with  the  convincing  power  of  a  Christian  life.  The 
converted  man  is  left  in  this  world  a  Avitness  for  Jesus 
— a  living  illustration  of  the  power  and  blessedness  of 
a  religious  life.  He  is  to  the  theologic  truth  of  the 
Bible  what  practical  experiments  are  to  scientific  truths 
in  Nature.  As  the  chemist  talks  technically  of  ele- 
ments in  analysis  and  synthesis,  and  exhibits  in  illus- 
tration, free  gases  and  ponderous  compounds;  and  as 
the  botanist  discourses  scientifically  of  the  structure  of 
plants,  and  the  functions  of  their  parts,  and  shows  you 
his  meaning  by  producing  the  petals  of  a  lily,  or  a 
spike  of  lavender — so  is  it  with  spiritual  science,  in  the 
hands  of  the  Great  Teacher.  The  Bible  explains,  and 
Christian  life  illustrates,  (e.  g.) 

Faith,  by  definition,  is  "  the  snibstance  of  things  hoped 
for."  But,  in  order  to  make  men  understand  it,  I  must 
be  able  to  point  to  some  man  who,  under  its  power,  lives, 
as  did  Abraham,  ever  looking  for  a  city  whose  maker  is 
God.  Trust  in  God  is,  by  definition,  an  unswerving 
resting  of  the  mind  on  Divine  veracity  and  benevolence. 
But,  to  make  a  man  comprehend  it,  it  must  be  in  my 
power  to  point  to  men  Avho,  under  its  influence,  sit  calmly, 
like  Daniel,  in  the  lion's  den ;  or  go  resolutely,  like  the 
young  Hebrews,  into  a  fiery  furnace. 

And  so  of  all  graces.  In  the  Bible  they  are  described, 
as  in  a  written  epistle — in  Christian  life  they  are  illus- 
trated, as  in  a  "  living  epistle."  And  in  this  sense  are 
we,  mainly,  witnesses  for  Christ.     As  the  Gadarenes  saw 


142  CHRISTIAN    INFLUENCE. 

that  the  demoniac  was  restored,  so  must  the  world  see 
that  the  sinner  is  converted.  He  must  speak  for  Christ, 
as  the  flower  and  the  star  speak  for  God,  in  the  beauty 
and  glory  of  their  physical  manifestations.  Without 
this  abiding  savor  of  a  holy  life,  all  else  will  prove  but  a 
mockery. 

When  the  blind  man  came  from  Christ,  saying,  "Jesus 
of  Nazareth  restored  me  to  sight,"  men  trusted  not  to 
his  words — they  examined  his  eyes.  When  the  lame 
man  cried,  "Oh,  Jesus  has  healed  me,"  men  did  not 
inquire  whether  he  was  eloquent — but  only  whether  he 
could  walk  !  And  so  is  it  of  salvation.  A  man  may  talk 
eloquently  as  an  apostle  about  the  purity  and  peace  of 
a  regenerated  nature,  but  if,  in  the  intervals  of  his 
religious  orations,  men  find  him  slandering  his  neigh- 
bors ;  or  defrauding  his  customers ;  or  manifesting  a  rash 
and  imprudent  temperament ;  or  walking  the  streets  of 
the  city  a  proud,  self-conceited,  pleasure-loving,  worldly- 
minded  man,  not  letting  "his  spiritual  light  shine  at  all, 
or  letting  it  so  shine  that  men  shall  see  it  and  glorify  not 
his  Heavenly  Father,  but  himself — then,  alas,  all  his 
testimony  for  Christ  will  seem  a  poor  trumpet  sounded 
in  the  street.  The  voice  is  Jacob's,  but  the  hands  are 
Esau's ;  the  tongue  is  of  Paul,  but  the  heart  is  a 
Pharisee's. 

The  power  of  the  savor  of  a  holy  life.  This  is  the 
power  of  a  converted  man  to  bring  others  to  Jesus.  Not 
so  much  to  tell  what  Christ  has  done  for  us,  as  to  show 
what  he  has  done  for  us — so  to  walk  before  men  that 
they  shall  see,  and  seeing,  believe,  that  religion  makes 
its  subjects  alike  happy  and  holy.  To  take  these  grand 
truths  of  the  Bible,  which,  as  they  lie  embodied  in  creeds 


CHRIHTIAN    INFLUENCE.  143 

and  confessions,  are  as  inoperative  upon  the  popular  con- 
science as  mammoth  fossils  in  rock,  or  dead  insects  in 
amber,  and  so  exhibit  them  in  the  power  of  a  daily  life, 
that  they  seem  creatures  of  mighty  strength,  shaking  the 
earth — creatures  of  joyous  heart,  singing  in  the  sunshine. 
To  walk  before  the  men  of  the  world,  in  the  exhibition 
of  such  superinduced  graces  of  godliness — so  humble,  so 
gentle,  so  loving,  so  merciful,  so  manifestly  subjects  of  a 
Divine  change  into  light  out  of  darkness,  from  death 
unto  life — that  no  man  can  confound  the  true  piety  with 
a  mock  pharisaism;  but,  as  in  the  case,  of  the  restored 
Gadarene,  beholding  one  that,  from  a  tortured  demoniac, 
hath  become  a  gentle  follower  of  Jesus,  all  men  shall  be 
constrained  to  acknowledge  that  there  is  a  reality  in 
religion — that  he  that  is  in  Christ  Jesus  is  a  new  crea- 
ture. This,  I  say,  is  the  true  secret,  or  element,  of  all 
Christian  influence. 

Meanwhile,  the  text  teaches  us,  thirdly  —  The  true 
sphere  of  this  Christian  influence. 

This  is  most  strikingly  set  forth  in  Christ's  words  to 
the  restored  man.  Filled  with  a  love  of  Jesus,  he  prayed 
that  he  might  go  with  him,  as  a  witness,  giving  testi- 
mony unto  his  gracious  power,  through  the  villages  of 
Galilee,  and  to  the  city  of  Jerusalem.  But  the  command 
of  the  Saviour  is,  "  Return  to  thine  own  house,  and  show 
how  great  things  God  hath  done  unto  thee." 

We  may  not  be  able  to  understand  all  the  reasons  of 
this  command.  It  is,  however,  quite  evident, first,  that 
his  home  would  be  the  field  of  his  most  powerful  influ- 
ence— since  those  who  had  best  known  him  in  his  demo- 
niacal state,  would  be  the  most  thoroughly  convinced  of 
Christ's  power  of  miraculous  restoration.    And,  secondly, 


144  CHRISTIAN    I2TFLUEXCE. 

that  his  homo  would  be  the  most  appropriate  field  of  his 
influence,  since  his  kinsfolk  had  the  first  claim  upon  his 
sympathy  and  labors.  And,  were  there  no  reasons  but 
these,  this  direction  of  Christ  teaches  us  this  important 
lesson  in  regard  of  Christian  influence — that  its  truest 
field,  and  its  mightiest  power,  are  alike  always  at  home. 

Its  mightiest  power  is  at  home,  because  the  members 
of  a  man's  own  household,  and  the  familiar  friends  of  his 
own  social  circle,  are  the  best  judges  of  the  genuineness 
of  his  conversion.  It  is  very  easy  to  put  on  seemings  of 
godliness  that  shall  deceive  strangers ;  but  that  must  be 
a  true  piety,  which,  amid  the  daily  vexations  of  life,  and 
the  unrestrained  intercourse  of  the  home-circle,  bears  the 
image  of  Jesus.  The  testimony  of  a  man's  parents,  or 
wife,  or  children,  or  servants,  or  customers,  or  employ- 
ers, to  his  sincere  piety,  is  worth  all  the  certificates  of 
church  courts  and  sessions  the  world  ever  saw.  As  the 
kinsfolk  of  the  Gadarene  were  the  best  judges  of  his  res- 
toration, so  are  kinsfolk  always  the  best  judges  of  con- 
version. And  it  is,  at  once,  a  finer  proof,  and  a  higher 
manifestation  of  vital  godliness,  to  live  every  day  in  the 
family-circle,  in  the  commandments  and  ordinances  of 
the  Lord  blameless,  than  to  sing  songs,  like  Paul  in  the 
dungeon  of  Philippi,  or  see  visions,  like  John  on  the  lone 
rock  of  Patmos. 

Meanwhile,  a  man's  home  is  the  fittest  field  for  the  ex- 
ercise of  his  Christian  influence.  Religion,  like  charity, 
should  begin  at  home.  Here,  emphatically,  "he  that 
pi'ovides  not  for  his  own,  denies  the  faith,  and  is  worse 
than  an  infidel."  It  is  right  to  have  an  expansive  benev- 
olence ;  a  Christian  love  that  takes  in  a  race  and  a 
world.     Nevertheless,  all  true  expansion  presupposes  a 


CHRISTIAN    INFLUENCE.  145 

fixed  and  vigorous  central  power.  Expansion  is  not 
locomotion,  but  enlargement ;  a  growth,  and  not  a  jour- 
ney. And  that  Christian  benevolence,  which  neglects 
religion  at  home  for  the  sake  of  carrying  it  abroad,  is 
at  best  but  a  locomotive,  and  not  an  enlarged  benevo- 
lence. 

Many  men,  when  first  converted,  feel,  like  this  Gada- 
rene,  an  earnest  desire  to  go  forth  into  new  fields,  bear- 
ing witness  for  Jesus.  But,  though  this  may  be  the  dic- 
tate and  desire  of  true  piety,  Divine  wisdom  directs 
otherwise.  Go  first  to  the  field  where  God  hath  cast 
your  lot — to  your  family,  to  your  social  circle,  to  the 
companions  of  your  own  sinful  life.  Here,  at  least,  is 
your  first  work.  See  that  your  own  field  is  well  tilled, 
ere  you  go  abroad  to  other  fields.  Your  own  heart 
first;  then  your  own  family;  then  your  own  church; 
then  your  own  country;  and  then  the  whole  world. 
This  is  God's  great  law  of  influence.  The  heart  must  be 
in  strong  health,  if  the  circulation  be  vigorous  and 
healthful  in  the  extremities.  The  roots  and  trunk  of  a 
tree  must  thrive,  if  it  would  fling  forth  new  branches. 

No  matter,  indeed,  how  largely  a  man  expands — the 
larger  his  benevolence  the  better  —  if  he  expand  har- 
moniously, from  a  healthy  and  permanent  centre.  Let 
him  not  mistake  diffusion  for  expansion,  nor  a  change 
of  scene  for  an  enlargement  of  influence.  Let  him  go 
forth,  like  the  apostles,  over  all  the  world ;  only,  like  the 
same  apostles,  let  his  ministry  for  Christ  begin  at  Jeru- 
salem. 

Would  that  all  Christians,  and  all  Christian  churches, 
would  learn  this  simple  lesson,  which  Christ  taught  to 
the  restored  man  of  Gadara.     One  fixed  and  steadfast 
1 


1^6  CHRISTIAN    INFLUENCE. 

sun,  standing  earnestly  in  its  appointed  place,  and  dif- 
fusing constant  light  and  life  over  the  small  circle  of 
worlds  God  has  committed  to  its  keeping,  is  worth  more 
than  a  hundred  erratic  comets,  flaming  out  in  the  heav- 
ens, and  casting  a  fiery  and  locomotive  glare  on  a 
thousand  constellations.  "  Let  me  go,"  said  the  restoied 
man,  "let  me  go  with  thee,  Master.  Let  me  walk 
through  broad  Galilee,  and  stand  up  as  a  living  witness 
for  God  before  Greek  and  Jew ;  before  ruler  and  Phari- 
see." And  though  this  request  falls  in  with  the  dictate 
of  human  reason,  yet,  oh,  deeper  wisdom  of  the  blessed 
Saviour  !  Christ  sent  him  unto  his  own  kinsfolk,  saying, 
"  Go  home  !   Go  home  /" 

Moreover,  the  text  teaches  us,  finally,  the  motives  of 
this  Christian  influence.  "  Return  to  thine  own  house," 
said  the  Saviour.  And  though  the  command  was  not 
according  to  his  prayers,  the  man  obeyed  it  instantly. 
And  the  reasons  of  his  obedience  are  obvious.  Doubtless, 
there  was  in  his  heart  a  natural  desire  to  visit  again,  in 
his  restored  state,  his  own  household.  The  text  tells  us 
he  had  "  a  home ;"  and  faithful  hearts,  long  agonized  in 
his  behalf,  were  to  be  comforted  and  blessed  by  his 
presence.  And  though,  for  his  own  sake,  he  preferred  to 
be  with  Jesus,  yet,  for  the  sake  of  beloved  kindred,  he 
was  willing  to  depart.  Here  was  one  motive,  and  a 
strong  one. 

But  the  text  gives  us  a  stronger.  The  Divine  com- 
mandment— "  Christ  sent  Jam  away."  He  may  not  have 
had  the  intellect  to  understand  why  Christ  thus  ordered 
it ;  but  he  surely  had  the  heart,  that,  in  its  supreme  love 
to  his  great  Deliverer,  rejoiced  above  all  things  to  do 
his  bidding.     And  though  that  command  bade  him  away 


CHRISTIAN'    INFLUENCE.  147 

from  his  Master's  presence,  into  those  very  scenes  where 
the  terrible  demon  had  aforetime  found  him,  yet  he 
obeyed  it  at  once,  unquestioning  and  joyful. 

And  here  are  the  types  of  Christian  motives,  in  labors 
for  the  Saviour.  Here  is,  first,  philanthropy — the  love 
of  our  human  kindred  ;  a  desire  to  save  the  sons  and 
daughters  of  our  one  great  Father.  The  man  feels  what 
it  is  to  be  saved  himself;  and  instinctively  and  earnestly 
desires  to  save  others.  As  a  mariner,  taken  from  the 
fragments  of  a  wreck,  will  spring  into  the  stormy  sea  to 
save  imperiled  shipmates  —  as  a  mother,  borne  forth 
from  a  burning  house,  will  rush  again  into  the  flames,  to 
bring  forth  her  perishing  children — so  a  saved  soul  longs 
and  labors  to  save  other  men.  Like  the  Gadarene,  he 
can  depart  even  from  the  Saviour's  presence,  for  the  sake 
of  his  beloved  ones.  Like  Paul,  he  "  could  icish  that 
himself  icere  accursed  from  Christ  for  his  brethren,  his 
kinsmen  according  to  the  fiesh.''''  And  every  strong 
motive,  whose  spring  is  in  the  better  and  gracious  im- 
pulses of  a  generous  nature,  urges  him  resistlessly  on- 
ward to  bring  sinful  men  to  Christ. 

But  yet,  strong  as  this  motive  is,  it  is  as  nothing  to  that 
second  and  mightier  one — the  command  of  his  Master. 
Christ,  his  great  and  gracious  Saviour,  hath  commanded 
him,  as  the  grand  end  of  his  earthly  being,  to  labor  to 
bring  impenitent  men  under  the  power  of  the  Gospel. 
And  this  motive  is  omnipotent.  "The  love  of  Christ 
constraineth  him."  Other  motives  might  fail — philan- 
thropy, benevolence,  love  for  kind  or  for  kindred — these 
might  appeal  to  him  in  vain.  He  might  think  of  the 
dark  places  of  the  earth,  full  of  the  habitations  of  cruelty  ; 
of  the  Indian's  babe  on  a  heathen  altar ;  of  a  Hindoo 


148  CHRISTIAN    INFLUENCE. 

widow  on  the  terrible  death-pyre — he  might  think  of 
the  home  of  his  familiar  friend,  made  desolate  and  de- 
spairing by  reason  of  unbelief  and  iniquity — yea,  perhaps 
he  might  think  even  of  an  immortal  soul  as  abiding 
under  the  curse  of  a  violated  law  ;  and  so,  exposed  every 
moment  to  a  death  that  is  eternal — he  might  think  of  all 
these  things,  I  say,  and  yet,  under  the  dread  power  of 
his  remaining  carnality,  remain  comparatively  indolent 
and  at  ease  in  Zion.  But,  meanwhile,  there  is  one  motive 
that  will  not,  can  not  fail — his  intense  love  for  Jesus. 
He  knows  that  the  salvation  of  men  is  the  desire  lying 
nearest  to  the  heart  that  was  pierced  on  Calvary — a 
desire  with  which  that  heart  is  burdened — a  desire  with 
which  it  travails.  And  before  that  one  thought  every 
selfish  consideration  of  ease,  or  honor,  or  pleasure,  passes 
away,  as  sere  leaves  before  a  tempest.  "  Oh,"  he  says, 
"  I  can  do  my  Lord's  bidding !  I  can  gladden  my  Sa- 
viour's heart  !  I  can  add  jewels  of  immense  price  to 
Emmanuel's  many  crowns !  And  what  care  1  now  for 
the  world's  prizes  ?  Why  shrink  I  now  from  the  world's 
frown  ?  Oh,  for  a  thousand  hearts  to  love  Jesus  !  Oh, 
for  a  thousand  tongues  to  praise  Jesus  !  Oh,  for  a  thou- 
sand lives  to  spend  and  be  spent  in  the  service  of  Jesus  ! 
The  love  of  my  kindred  might  fail — but  the  love  of  Christ 
constraineth  me!" 

The  text  then  sets  forth  the  importance,  the  elements, 
the  sphere,  and  the  motives  of  true  Christian  influence. 
Let  us  study  the  record,  and  lake  home  its  lessons. 
How  it  speaks  to  prof essing  Christians!  Alas,  for  our 
feeble  faith,  and  feeble  obedience  !  How  this  poor  man 
of  Gadara  shames  our  fitful  and  hesitating  testimonies 
for  Jesus  !     Behold  him  there  in  the  streets  of  Decapolis, 


CHE  IS  TIA  N    IN  F  L  VE  N  GE.  149 

among  the  friends  and  companions  of  his  early  years  of 
iniquity  and  anguish  !  See  how  his  eyes  flash — how  his 
heart  hounds  !  Hark,  how  in  simple,  yet  earnest  elo- 
quence he  tells  them  of  that  gracious  Redeemer,  who 
met  him  in  his  wretched  wanderings,  and  succored  and 
saved  him. 

Brethren  and  sisters,  let  us  do  likewise.  Ah,  we  have 
a  more  touching  story  to  tell  than  this  man  of  Gadara, 
for  we  were  bowed  with  a  more  terrible  curse,  and  have 
been  redeemed  with  a  more  wonderful  salvation.  Lost 
— lost — lost,  Ave  were  !  hopelessly  lost !  eternally  lost ! 
And  as  we  wandered  in  darkness  unto  death,  Jesus  met 
us  in  mercy.  He  looked  on  us  tenderly ;  he  approached 
us ;  he  saved  us — saved  us  from  eternal  death  ;  put  our 
feet  upon  a  rock,  and  a  new  song  into  our  mouth  ;  filled 
our  hearts  with  the  joys  of  salvation ;  lifted  us  to  the 
raptures  of  everlasting  life  !  And  now,  raised — ran- 
somed— redeemed,  around  us  a  world  of  spiritual  death, 
before  us  a  world  of  eternal  life,  what  have  we  to  do  but 
to  proclaim  Christ's  great  grace  ?  To  tell  the  story  of 
redeeming  power — to  sing  the  song  of  redeeming  love  ? 
uTo  return  to  our  homes,  and  shoio  how  great  things 
God  hath,  done  unto  us  .?" 

But  the  text  speaks,  as  well,  to  the  impenitent.  These 
miracles  of  our  Lord  were  designed  to  illustrate  the 
greater  and  gracious  miracle  of  regeneration.  This 
case  of  the  demoniac  is  God's  own  chosen  emblem  of 
the  unregenerate  spirit.  If  not  precisely  in  the  old 
Hebrew  sense,  yet  in  a  sense  most  mysteriously  and 
fearfully  true — every  impenitent  man  is  possessed  of 
devils.  Of  him,  revelation  declares  that  the  god  of  this 
world  blindeth  the  eye  and  ruleth  in  the  heart.     Were 


150  CHRISTIAN    INFLUENCE. 

it  not  for  this,  insensibility  to  eternal  things  would  he 
impossible.  To  the  eye  of  sane  wisdom,  these  pleasures 
of  sin  seem  terrible.  They  are  like  the  rainbows  that 
flit  along  the  death-curve  of  a  cataract.  Like  crystals 
that  sometimes  sparkle  down  in  the  hot  crater  of  a 
rocking  volcano. 

The  glorious  idols  of  a  sinful  life  are,  at  best,  but 
phantoms — there  is  nothing  real  in  them.  And  they 
seem  substantial,  and  beautiful,  and  good,  only  because 
the  great  Sorcerer  hath  waved  his  wand  and  muttered 
his  incantation.  Alas,  impenitent  men,  ye  are  demon- 
ized!  Seeming  to  yourselves  clothed  in  fair  robes,  and 
surrounded  by  joyous  companions,  and  living  in  palaces, 
ye  are  yet,  in  the  sight  of  God's  loyal  universe,  poor 
outcasts  from  all  holy  fellowship — self-torturing,  self-de- 
stroying— cutting  yourselves  with  stones,  and  dwelling 
in  sepulchres. 

Study,  then,  carefully  this  record,  and  learn  the  un- 
speakable blessedness  of  that  change  which  makes  man  a 
Christian.  Behold  this  man  of  Gadara,  as  he  comes  to 
Jesus.  A  raging  demoniac,  escaped  from  dungeons. 
His  eyes  wild  with  fiendish  passion — his  limbs  loaded 
with  links  of  broken  fetters — his  flesh  scarred  with  self- 
tortui'e — a  fierce,  raging,  despairing  demoniac !  So  he 
comes.  But  the  gracious  Saviour  hath  compassion.  He 
speaks,  and  the  torturing  demons  flee — the  fiendish  spell 
is  broken  !  See  !  Clothed  and  in  his  right  mind, — gentle, 
loving,  blessed — his  heart  bounding  with  a  higher  and 
holy  life — his  eyes  soft  with  the  light  of  a  heavenly  and 
unutterable  rapture — he  sits  at  Christ's  feet,  and  hears 
his  words  ! 

And  now,  go  a  little  on  in  his  history.     He  hath  obeyed 


CHRISTIAN'    INFLTJEX  CE.  151 

the  voice  of  his  Master,  and  departed  to  his  home. 
Imagine  that  return — that  approach  to  his  household — 
that  crossing  the  threshold — that  welcome  of  the  he- 
loved  ones — those  bounding  feet — those  clasping  arms — 
those  sobbing  utterances  of  overwhelming  rapture,  too 
deep  for  words  !  See  !  Yesterday,  he  dwelt  in  sepul- 
chres— the  decay  of  the  grave-cavern ;  the  scent  of  cor- 
ruption ;  the  solitude;  the  silence ;  the  chill  damps ;  the 
appalling  shadows ;  the  phosphorescence  of  death — ■ 
these,  and  such  as  these,  were  with  him  and  around 
him ! 

Now,  he  is  with  the  living,  in  his  own  fair  dwelling — 
the  fragrance  of  dewy  flowers — the  light  of  the  land's 
glad  summer — the  ministries  of  gentle  hands — the  bright- 
ness of  loving  eyes — the  music  of  loving  voices — all  the 
peace,  the  triumph,  the  rapture  of  holy  and  exultant  life 
— within  him  and  around  him !  Oh,  change !  Oh, 
wondrous  change !  Yesterday  with  the  dead,  in  the 
cold,  unpitying  tomb — to-day  with  the  living,  in  a  fair 
and  blessed  home  !  And  yet,  only  faintly  an  emblem  of 
that  change  in  regeneration,  whereby  an  immortal  spirit 
is  freed  from  its  tormentors,  and  a  soul  dead  in  sins  is 
made  alive  in  Christ  Jesus ! 


GRACE  AND   WORKS. 


"  Work  out  your  own  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling.  For  it  is 
God  which  worketh  in  you  both  to  will  and  to  do." — Philippians, 
ii.   12,   13. 

O.XE  of  the  most  important  attainments  of  specula- 
tive wisdom  is — to  know  when  to  stop.  One  of  the  finest 
exhibitions  of  practical  wisdom  is — to  stop  at  the  right 
time,  and  in  the  right  place.  Unto  man,  in  his  fini- 
tude,  there  are  set  bounds  that  he  can  not  pass.  There 
are  physical  regions,  into  which  he  can  not  carry  one  of 
his  senses.  There  are  intellectual  regions,  into  Avhich 
he  can  not  carry  one  of  his  perceptions.  As  a  creature, 
finite  in  faculties  and  powers,  he  is  hemmed  in  by  bar- 
riers, Avhereon,  unto  all  his  yearning  and  headlong  prog- 
ress, God  has  written  the  ordinance — "  thus  far  shalt 
thou  go,  and  no  farther."  And  to  attempt  to  force  these 
barriers  is  foolishness.  To  stop,  when  we  can  go  no 
farther  safely,  is  true  wisdom.  A  wise  child  might 
ascend  a  mountain  top,  to  get  clearer  views  of  the  starry 
heavens ;  but  if,  while  standing  there,  enamored  of  some 
fair  planet,  he  should  spring  from  the  dizzy  height,  with 
a  wild  hope  of  being  drawn  within  its  sphere,  and  thus 
learning  more  of  its  mysterious  loveliness — this  were 
midsummer  madness. 

And  just   as   self-destructive  is  the  folly  of  a  man, 


GRACE    AND     WORKS.  153 

who,  in  regard  of  the  great  mysteries  of  revelation, 
attempts  to  be  wise  above  what  is  written.  To  the  very 
loftiest  heights  of  revealed  doctrine  he  may  advance 
with  a  firm  footstep,  knowing  that  he  walks  on  the 
everlasting  rock  of  Divine  truth ;  but  to  adventure  be- 
yond this,  is  to  fling  himself  from  an  adamantine  plat- 
form, into  the  tremendous  depths  of  error  that  yawn 
around  him. 

God  tells  us  all  that  it  is  necessary  to  know ;  and 
with  this  we  must  be  satisfied.  But,  alas,  with  it,  too 
often,  we  are  not  satisfied  !  God  gives  the  facts — we 
want  their  explanation.  And  so,  much  of  our  specula- 
tive theology  is  like  the  fluttering 

"  Of  tho  adventurous  bird,  that  hath  outflown 
Its  strength  upon  the  sea — ambition-wrecked — 
A  thing  the  thrush  might  pity,  as  she  sita 
Brooding  in  quiet  on  her  lowly  nest." 

And  in  nothing  is  this  more  manifest,  than  in  regard 
of  the  truth  brought  to  view  in  the  text — the  union  of 
Divine  and  human  agencies  in  the  teork  of  salvation. 
You  are  all  of  you  aware  how  much  of  controversial 
theology  there  is  on  this  point ;  how  the  Church  of 
Christ  has,  in  all  time,  been  divided  on  the  great  truths 
of  GofTs  sovereignty  and  mail's  free  agency.  No  man 
can  read  the  Bible  with  a  teachable  spirit,  and  not  per- 
ceive how  both  these  truths  are  abundantly  and  expli- 
citly set  forth  in  its  revelations.  God  is  a  sovereign. 
God  does  foreordain  whatsoever  comes  to  pass.  There 
is  a  decree  of  election.  The  names  of  the  elect  are 
from  eternity  in  the  Lamb's  book  of  life.  But,  mean- 
while, man  is  a  free  agent — as  verily  free  to  choose  sal- 
T* 


154  GRACE    AND     WORKS. 

vation — as  honestly  invited  to  find  justification  in 
Christ,  and  final  glory  in  heaven — as  if  there  were  no 
decree  of  election,  and  God  were  not  a  sovereign  in  sal- 
vation. These  are  both  great  truths,  on  which  we  can 
stand,  as  on  everlasting  mountains.  But,  then,  how  to 
reconcile  them  is  man's  difficulty.  Not  satisfied  with 
receiving  them  both,  as  distinct  oracles  of  God,  we  must 
philosophize  about  their  practical  consistency  and  har- 
mony. And  here  arise  our  antagonistic  schools  of  the- 
ology ;  all  alike,  either  stretching  or  mutilating,  with 
Procrustean  logic,  some  Divine  member,  till  the  whole 
glorious  body  of  truth  lies  in  tortured  adjustment  unto 
their  own  favorite  system — the  one,  abating  the  fullness 
of  God's  sovereignty ;  the  other,  abating  the  fullness  of 
man's  free-agency — the  one,  wresting  God's  sceptre  from 
his  hand,  lest  man  should  seem  a  slave  ;  the  other,  bind- 
ing man  with  an  iron  fetter,  lest  God  should  not  seem 
a  sovereign. 

Now,  in  attempting  to  reconcile  these  truths,  we  fling 
ourselves  from  the  adamantine  paths  of  revelation,  sheer 
over  the  fearful  precipices  of  unhallowed  conjecture. 
We  know,  indeed,  that  they  are  reconcilable,  because 
they  are  both  truths ;  and  all  truth  is,  and  must  be, 
beautifully  consistent.  But  man  can  not  reconcile  them. 
Nay,  with  his  present  imperfect  faculties,  man  can  not 
understand  their  reconciliation;  and  so  God  gives  him 
no  explanation  of  their  consistency.  But  God  does  most 
distinctly  affirm,  not  only  that  they  are  both  truths,  but 
that  they  are  truths  beautifully  and  harmoniously  coex- 
istent in  his  great  plan  of  salvation. 

This  is  precisely  what  the  apostle  does  in  the  text. 
Here,   in    the   fewest   and   simplest  words   possible,  he 


GRACE    AND     WORKS.  155 

affirms  God's  sovereignty  in  salvation,  and  man's  free- 
agency  in  salvation ;  and  meanwhile,  asserts  their 
philosophic  connection — not  reasoning,  as  we  reason, 
that,  because  God  is  a  sovereign,  man  has  nothing  to  do 
nor,  that  because  man  has  something  to  do,  God  is  not 
a  sovereign — but,  on  the  contrary,  that  man  is  a  free 
agent,  just  because  God  is  a  sovereign ;  calling  upon 
the  Philippians,  with  the  earnestness  of  the  broadest 
Arminianism,  "  to  work  out  their  own  salvation  with  fear 
and  trembling" — and  urging,  as  a  motive  this  stanch- 
est  Calvinism,  "  that  God  worketh  in  them  both  to  will 
and  to  do  his  own  good  pleasure." 

Now,  this  is  our  text.  And,  in  its  consideration,  let 
us  follow  exactly  the  lead  of  the  apostolic  thought ;  not 
attempting  to  explain  the  connection  of  these  two 
truths,  but  assuming  their  consistency,  and  receiving 
them  both,  in  their  order  and  fullness,  without  cavil  or 
questioning. 

The  apostle  then  asserts  in  the  text — First,  the  abso- 
lute sovereignty  of  God  in  human  salvation.  "  It  is  God 
that  worketh  in  you  both  to  will  and  to  do." 

And  here  the  reference  is,  manifestly,  not  to  Christ's' 
work  in  purchasing  salvation,  but  to  the  Spirit's  work  in 
applying  salvation — not  God  working  for  us,  but  God 
working  in  us.  There  is  indeed  a  great  work  which 
God  must  do,  and  so  has  done  for  man.  Sinners  as  we 
are  against  the  Divine  law,  that  law  must  be  satisfied, 
or  salvation  is  impossible.  And  so,  "  God  did  give  his 
only-begotten  Son,  that  ichosoever  believeth  on  him  should 
not  perish."  All  this  God  does /'or  man.  But,  over  and 
above  all  this,  there  is  a  work  to  be  done  upon  the  sinful 
heart — a  regenerating   and  sanctifying  work — as  abso- 


156  GRACE    AND     WORKS. 

lately  essential  to  salvation  as  Christ's  great  sacrifice. 
And  this  is  what  is  referred  to  in  the  text,  as  "God's 
working  in  us."'  And  this  Divine  work  in  the  sonl  is 
here  accurately  denned. 

"  God  worketh  in  you  both  to  will  and  to  do "— -first, 
God  worketh  in  man  "to  will."  The  word  here  is  well 
rendered.  It  means  just  this  in  the  original — "to  wish" 
— "to  desire" — "to  choose."  These  are  its  synonyms. 
And  however  philosophers  may  be  allowed  to  differ  in 
their  metaphysical  speculations,  yet  that  theologians, 
who  go  to  God's  word  for  truth,  can,  after  this  assertion, 
maintain  their  theories  of  a  self-deter  mining  power  in  the 
will,  is  verily  a  marvel. 

Call  tins  "will"  what  you  please — a  distinct  faculty 
of  the  soul,  or  only  one  of  its  exercises  or  actions — yet 
of  it  the  text  expressly  asserts,  that  in  the  choice  of  sal- 
vation its  volitions  are  absolutely  determined  by  the 
influences  of  God's  Spirit — not  merely  that  God  assists 
all  who  are  willing  to  be  saved — but  that  this  very  will- 
ingness to  be  saved  must  itself  be  wrought  in  the  soul  by 
God. 

•  It  may,  indeed,  be  urged,  that  it  is  inconceivable  that 
a  man  should  be  free,  and  yet  Divinely  determined  to 
certain  courses.  But  to  this  we  answer,  first,  that  liberty 
consists  in  doing  what  Ave  do  with  knowledge,  and  from 
choice.  And  the  Divine  influence  upon  our  will,  myste- 
rious as  it  is,  is  so  entirely  accordant  with  our  mental 
constitution,  that  it  leaves  all  untouched  this  liberty — 
God  makes  us  willing,  and  that  very  willingness  is  our 
free  choice.  To  say  that  a  man  must,  of  himself,  consent 
to  co-operate  with  the  Holy  Spirit,  before — either  in  the 
order  of  nature  or  of  time — the  Holy  Ghost  sovereignly 


GRACE    AND     WORKS.  157 

operates,  is,  therefore,  simply  to  say  that  an  effect  pre- 
cedes its  cause.  And  this  whole  vaunted  proposition,  of 
the  freedom  of  the  will — i.  e.,  the  will's  sovereign,  self- 
moving,  or  self-determining  power — means  simply  and 
absurdly  just  this,  That  a  man  must  be  willing  that  the 
Holy  Ghost  should  work  in  him  to  will,  i.  e.,  that  a  man 
must  be  willing,  before  he  can  be  willing. 

But  to  this  we  answer,  secondly,  That  whether  or  not 
it  be  beyond  our  comprehension,  how  a  man  can  be  free 
and  yet  graciously  determined  to  certain  courses,  yet, 
here  in  the  text  and  elsewhere,  it  is  expressly  asserted, 
that  a  man's  will  is  thus  graciously  determined,  and  yet 
that  he  is  free.  And  he  is  here  urged  to  work  out  earn- 
estly his  own  salvation,  just  because  it  is  God  that  work- 
eth  in  him,  not  only  "to  do"  but  "to  will.'''' 

Nor  does  the  Divine  influence  end  here.  "  God  worJc- 
eth  in  us  both  to  will  and  to  do" — i.  e.,  not  only  does  the 
man  will  (i.  e.,  choose,  or  resolve,  or  determine  to  do  what 
God  requires  of  him),  under  the  Divine  influences,  but 
this  influence  causes  him,  as  well,  to  perform  or  accom- 
plish his  resolves  and  purposes. 

If  this  language  means  any  thing,  it  must  mean  that 
a  mail's  ability  to  comply  with  the  conditions  of  salva- 
tion is  absolutely  and  entirely  a  Divine  gift — a  Divine 
gift  in  the  will  to  do;  a  Divine  gift  in  the  power  to  do. 
It  asserts,  what  is  everywhere  else  asserted  in  the  Scrip- 
tures, that  salvation,  from  beginning  to  end,  is  altogether 
of  grace — that  Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world,  not 
merely  to  render  men  salvable,  i.  e.,  to  place  them  in  cir- 
cumstances where  they  can  save  themselves,  but  posi- 
tively to  save  them. 

Paul,  certainly,  never  shrinks  from  this  assertion.     He 


158  GRACE    AND     WORKS. 

never  softens  down  this  great  truth  of  God's  sovereignty 
in  salvation,  to  square  with  any  philosophic  notion  of  a 
partial  self-righteousness.  lie,  at  least,  ascribes  the  whole 
work,  from  foundation  to  top-stone,  to  God's  omnipotent 
grace — grace,  not  manifested  merely  in  the  purchase  of 
salvation  by  the  Son's  sacrifice,  but  manifested,  as  well, 
in  the  application  of  salvation  by  the  Spirit's  influences. 
Paul's  theology  Avas  out-and-out  and  aboveboard  as  to 
man's  inability  to  do  any  good  thing.  His  account  of  the 
carnal  heart  is,  not  that  it  is  somewhat,  indeed,  set  toward 
evil,  and  yet  capable,  somehow,  of  self-transformation  to 
good — but,  on  the  contrary,  that  it  is  absolutely  "enmity 
toward  God,  not  subject  to  his  law,  neither  indeed  can  be." 
And  his  theory  of  the  Spirit's  influence  in  salvation  is, 
not  that  of  a  mere  presentation  of  persuasive  motives, 
but,  the  rather,  that  of  an  omnipotent  energy  upon  the 
soul,  "working  in  it  both  to  will  and  to  do  of  God's  own 
good  pleasure." 

This,  then,  is  Paul's  theology,  as  it  has  to  do  with 
God's  work  in  salvation.  He  asserts  here,  as  distinctly 
as  is  possible  for  human  language,  that  the  whole  gra- 
cious experience  in  the  soul,  from  the  first  choice  or  voli- 
tion— that  state  of  the  will  that  lies  back  of  all  moral 
action — on  through  all  the  successive  acts,  inward  or 
outward,  of  practical  obedience,  is  alike  and  altogether 
the  work  of  Divine  grace  in  the  heart.  But  then,  having 
asserted  this  great  truth  in  all  its  absolute  fullness,  he 
goes  on  to  assert  as  unqualifiedly,  and  unhesitatingly,  and 
absolutely, 

Secondly,  The  entire  free-agency  of  rnan  in  this  work 
of  salvation. 

"  Work  out  your  own  salvation  with  fear  and  trem- 


GRACE    AND     WORKS.  159 

bling.n  Here,  right  in  the  seeming  face  of  this  doctrine 
of  Divine  sovereignty,  he  calls  npon  men  to  exert  them- 
selves for  the  salvation  of  the  soul,  precisely  as  in  regard 
of  any  other  great  interest,  confessedly  dependent  upon 
human  choice  and  activity. 

And  herein  is  Paul's  wisdom.  He  attempts  not  to  har- 
monize these  truths  to  human  comprehension;  he  does 
better,  he  assumes  their  entire  harmony.  He  takes  that 
very  sovereignty  of  God,  which  the  Arminian  tells  us  in- 
fringes man's  free-agency,  and  sets  it  forth  as  the  very 
foundation  of  such  free-agency.  He  urges  men  to  seek 
salvation,  not  because  they  have  any  power  to  save 
themselves,  but,  positively,  because  they  can  do  nothing 
without  God.  Mark  the  force  of  the  word  "for"  here. 
"  Work  out  your  own  salvation,  for  God  worJceth  in 
you.''''  Seemingly  a  false  logic,  you  say.  Be  it  so.  It 
is  Paul's  logic ;  or,  rather,  the  logic  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
that  inspired  Paul's  deliverances.  Let  it  therefore  be 
ours.  Whether  we  can  understand  it  or  not,  the  sover- 
eignty of  Divine  grace  is  the  only  encoui'agement  to 
human  efforts  for  salvation.  Let  us  take  the  truth  at 
God's  hand,  and  believe  it,  and  rely  on  it.  Let  us  stand 
on  the  eternal  adamant  of  God's  word,  and  not  fling 
ourselves  over  the  awful  precipices  of  philosophic  con- 
jecture. 

One  thing  is  certain.  Every  man  that  is  saved  must 
work  out  his  own  salvation.  There  is  nothing  in  God's 
sovereignty  which  weakens  this  necessity.  Nay,  rather 
is  that  immutable  sovereignty  the  very  ground  of  the 
necessity.  We  may  not  be  idle  because  God  is  busy. 
On  the  contrary,  we  must  work,  just  because  God  works. 

So  it  is,  even  in  the  analogies  of  nature.     The  fact, 


160  GRACE    AND     WORKS. 

that  throughout  all  visible  materialism  God's  operations 
are  manifestations  of  absolute  and  inflexible  sovereignty; 
that  the  known  laws  of  his  universe  allow  no  infringe- 
ments ;  that  its  properties  are  immutably  inherent,  and 
its  processes  perpetual  and  everlasting  —  this  sublime 
fact  is  man's  strongest  encouragement  to  effort.  Because 
God's  winds  blow,  man  spreads  his  adventurous  canvas. 
Because  God's  planets  revolve  in  undeviating  constancy, 
man  sows  in  spring-time  and  reaps  in  autumn.  In  all 
his  manifold  activities  man  proceeds  in  faith  of  the  unde- 
viating uniformity  of  visible  nature.  And  to  fling  a 
doubt  on  that  uniformity — to  awaken  a  suspicion  in  the 
human  mind,  that,  in  his  grand  physical  economy,  God 
works  without  the  steadfastness  of  an  everlasting  pur- 
pose— this  were  to  destroy  at  a  blow  man's  last  motive 
to  energy,  and  leave  him  a  despairing  idler  amid  the 
wild  chances  of  the  universe. 

So  it  is  in  nature.  Man  is  encouraged  to  work,  be- 
cause, in  his  resistless  sovereignty,  God  works  within  and 
around  him.  And  so,  according  to  apostolic  logic,  is  it 
in  the  economy  of  grace.  God's  sovereignty  is  the  veiy 
ground  of  man's  free-agency — the  very  encouragement  to 
human  effort.  "  Work  out  your  own  salvation  with  fear 
and  trembling,  for  it  is  God  that  worketh  in  you  both  to 
will  and  to  do." 

Now,  Avith  this  simple  setting-forth  of  the  apostolic  ar- 
gument, let  us  pass  to  consider  the  apostolic  exhortation. 

"  Work  out  your  own  salvation  with  fear  and  trem- 
bling." 

The  nature  of  this  "  working-out"  is  explained  in  the 
other  clause  of  the  text — it  is  the  very  "  willing  and 
doing"  to  r  hich  God  excites  us. 


GRACE    AND     WORKS.  161 

First — We  must  "will."  The  word  means  much 
more  than  a  simple  wish,  or  desire.  It  denotes  that 
act  of  the  mind,  or  state  of  the  mind,  in  which,  after  the 
understanding  has  compared  different  things,  and  the 
judgment  has  decided  which  is  preferable,  then  it  deter- 
mines, or  is  determined,  to  pursue  the  favorite  one. 

Without  this,  all  other  emotions  or  exercises  are  use- 
less. I  may  believe  there  is  a  heaven ;  I  may  understand 
something  of  its  glories;  I  may  even  desire  earnestly  its 
beatitudes;  but  without  this  will — this  fixed  and  stead- 
fast resolution  to  break  away  from  my  sins  and  take 
heaven  by  violence — all  else  will  be  unavailing. 

Meanwhile,  you  will  observe,  this  act  of  will  has  re- 
spect to  the  present  moment.  The  instant  a  man  wills 
to  do  a  thing,  that  instant  he  sets  about  it.  To  resolve 
to  do  a  thing  to-morrow,  is  not  "to  will"  to  do  it;  but 
is,  rather,  to  will  not  to  do  it  at  present.  The  act  of 
"  willing  "  is  simultaneous  with,  or  at  least  followed  in- 
stantly by,  the  act  of  "  doing."  "  To  will,"  then,  in  the 
sense  of  the  text,  is,  at  once  and  without  delay,  resolutely 
and  earnestly,  to  set  about  the  great  work  of  salvation. 

But  the  text  goes  further.  "  We  must  icill  and  must 
do."  To  will  has  regard  to  the  instant  beginning ;  to  do 
has  regard  to  the  persevering  accomplishment.  Those 
acts  of  repentance  and  faith,  which  God  commands,  and 
unto  which  the  Spirit  strengthens  us,  are  at  once  to  be- 
come, and  constantly  continue,  the  grand  business  of 
life.  A  life  of  prayer,  of  self-denial,  of  watchfulness,  of 
active  and  persevering  well-doing  in  all  the  divine  ordi- 
nances— such  a  life  is  to  be  instantly  chosen,  and  earn- 
estly pursued,  under  the  influences  of  the  strengthening 
and  sanctifying  Spirit — taking  Christ  to  be  our  Saviour, 


162  GRACE    AND     WORKS. 

and  the  word  of  God  to  be  our  rule  of  life,  we  are  hence- 
forth, in  the  active  and  entire  consecration  of  all  our 
powers  and  faculties,  "  to  will  and  to  do  of  God's  good 
pleasure."  And  thus,  in  the  sense  of  the  text,  "  we  work 
out  our  salvation.'''' 

This  is  the  matter  of  the  commandment ;  but,  for  the 
sake  of  practical  instruction,  let  us  consider  more  care- 
fully the  manner  of  its  obedience. 

"  Work  out  your  own  salvation.''''  Paul  does  not  com- 
mand these  Philippians  to  save  themselves.  There  was 
no  thought  in  his  mind  of  any  meritorious  self-righteous- 
ness. Man  can,  by  no  work  of  his  own,  either  procure 
salvation  or  merit  salvation.  As  the  Philippian  jailer 
did  not  ask,  "What  shall  I  do  to  save  myself?"  but, 
"What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved?"  so,  in  the  text,  the  whole 
efficiency  and  ground  of  salvation  are  ascribed  absolutely 
to  the  omnipotent  working  of  God.  God  worketh  the 
salvation  within  the  soul — man  only  worketh  that  salva- 
tion out  in  the  Christian  life.  To  break  off  from  known 
sin  ;  to  renounce  all  self-righteousness  ;  to  cast  ourselves 
in  loving  faith  on  the  merits  of  Christ  crucified ;  to  com- 
mence at  once  a  life  of  self-denial,  of  prayer,  of  obedi- 
ence ;  to  turn  from  all  that  God  forbids,  resolutely  and 
earnestly  unto  all  that  God  requires — this  is  what  the 
text  implies.  But  then  this  is  not  salvation.  Oh,  no ! 
Salvation  is  of  God — of  grace — of  free  grace.  From  the 
germ  to  the  fruit,  from  foundation  to  top-stone — of  grace, 
free  grace,  altogether  and  only.  The  sacrifice  of  the 
Son,  the  sanctification  of  the  Spirit — all  this  is  a  Divine 
work,  in  which  God  will  allow  no  copartnership  of 
man's  poor  merits,  man's  miserable  self-righteousness. 

But  though  not  salvation,  it  is  the  "  working  out  of 


GRACE    AND     WORKS.  163 

salvation " — it  is  man's  part  in  the  work  of  salvation. 
And  this  he  must  do,  or  perish.  This  is  his  own  work. 
God  will  not  repent  for  the  man  ;  nor  believe  for  the 
man  ;  nor  lead  a  holy  life  for  the  man.  God  worketh 
inwardly — man  worketh  outwardly.  And  this  outward 
human  work  is  as  necessary  as  the  inward  Divine  work. 

"  Work  out  your  own  salvation."  There  is  a  strong 
emphasis  here,  on  the  words  "  your  own.''''  Here  is  some- 
thing to  be  done,  which  no  one  can  do  for  you.  No  be- 
loved friend  can  save  you — no  teaching  minister;  no 
praying  Christian ;  no  visiting  or  guardian  angel ;  not 
even  God  himself,  save  as  you  fall  in  with  his  gracious 
operations,  working  out  your  own  salvation  as  he  work- 
eth in  you.  Here  is  something  for  you  to  do,  without 
which,  as  God  lives  and  your  soul  lives,  that  poor  soul 
will  perish.  This  is  "  your  own  "  work.  Not  something 
you  are  to  pray  God  to  do  for  you,  but  to  do  for  your- 
selves. And  if  you  wait  for  God  to  do  it,  you  will  wait 
forever. 

Alas,  for  the  madness  of  the  soul,  that,  living  under 
Gospel  ordinances,  sits  quietly  down  in  its  sins,  waiting 
for  God  to  convert  it !  As  if  a  husbandman  should  sit 
idly  in  his  dwelling,  expecting  God  to  fill  his  garner 
with  golden  harvests  !  As  if  a  sailor  should  lie  at  an- 
chor by  the  shore,  expecting  God  to  tear  his  bark  from 
its  moorings,  and  drive  him,  a  compelled  voyager,  to  the 
blessed  isles  of  ocean  ! 

God's  time  hath  already  come.  God's  work  is  done 
already.  God's  only  Son  hath  died.  God's  only  Spirit 
hath  descended.  And  what  more  are  you  looking  for  ? 
Ah !  it  is  himself — God's  own  gracious  and  glorious  self 
— that  cries,  "  What  more  could  I  do  for  my  vineyard 


104  GRACE    AND     WORKS. 

that  I  have  not  done?"  "As  I  live,  I— I— have  no 
pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  sinner /"  Turn  ye — turn  ye 
— why  w  ill  ye  die?  What  remains,  then,  is  your  work 
— to  be  done  by  yourselves,  if  it  is  ever  clone.  Work 
out  your  own  salvation — for  it  is  your  own — your  own  ! 
Yea,  more — "  Work  out  your  own  salvation  with  fear 

AND  TREMBLING." 

If  you  examine  the  original,  you  will  perceive  that 
several  distinct  thoughts  are  involved  in  these  words. 
They  express  deep  humility  and  self -distrust,  as  well  as 
profound  concern  and  anxiety. 

First — They  express  humility  and  self-distrust.  They 
are  precisely  the  words  Paul  uses  when  he  speaks  of 
himself,  among  the  Corinthians,  as  being  "  in  weakness, 
and  in  fear,  and  in  much  trembling."  And  in  this  sense 
the  thought  is — that  while  we  work  out  our  own  salva- 
tion, it  is  to  be  with  no  thought  of  self-righteousness — 
feeling  that,  after  all  our  working,  salvation  is  wholly  of 
that  Divine  grace  that  worketh  in  us.  This  gives  a  good 
sense,  and  an  important  sense.  Alas,  this  is  what,  seem- 
ingly, the  Church  greatly  wants  just  now — this  "  fear 
and  trembling  /"  this  deep  and  unfeigned  humility  in  the 
work  of  salvation.  Alas,  for  our  glorying  ! — this  sacri- 
ficing unto  our  own  drag  and  net,  in  our  lauding  of 
means  and  measures!  If  there  is  any  thing  that  will 
grieve  God's  Spirit  to  depart,  it  is  this  proud  self-suffi- 
ciency. God  is  a  jealous  God.  His  own  glory  he  will 
not  see  given  to  another.  Means  of  grace  become  bin- 
derances,  become  curses,  the  moment  we  substitute  them 
for  grace  itself — as  the  brazen  serpent,  whereby  Israel 
had  been  healed,  became  Israel's  curse,  when  they 
burned   incense   unto    it    as   an   idol.     The  power  that 


GRACE    AND     WORKS.  165 

brings  sinners  to  the  Saviour  is  altogether  of  God ;  and 
our  work,  as  his  fellow-laborers,  must  be  in  the  deep  hu- 
mility and  self-abasement  of  unprofitable  servants. 

This  is,  moreover,  what  the  individual  soul  wants. 
The  man  who  boldly  and  confidently,  as  if  he  were  doing 
some  brave  and  noble  thing  for  Christ,  resolves  to  be  a 
Christian,  lacks  the  first  evidence  of  genuine  conversion. 
The  truly  regenerate  heart  trusts  solely  and  forever  in 
a  Saviour's  merits.  He  makes  no  mention  of  what  he 
has  done,  or  can  do ;  but  talks  ever  and  only  of  what 
his  Lord  hath  done.  He  works,  not  with  a  proud  self- 
righteousness,  as  if  the  work  were  his  work,  but  "  with 
fear  and  trembling,  for  it  is  God  that  worketh  in  him." 

Meanwhile,  these  words  express,  as  well,  profound 
concern  and  anxiety.  That  anxiety  and  concern  with 
which  a  work  of  such  awful  importance  is  ever  per- 
formed.    This  anxiety  arises  from  several  considerations. 

First — From  the  thought,  that  this  work  of  salvation 
is  the  work  to  which  God  has  set  us. 

This  direction  of  the  apostle  is  a  divine  command- 
ment. Alas,  for  our  common  mistake — that  these  Gospel 
offers  are  simple  invitations.  They  are,  as  well,  the 
solemn  utterances  of  a  Divine  law,  which  the  man  is 
bound  to  obey  as  instantly  and  unhesitatingly  as  any 
commandment  thundered  on  Sinai.  Think,  then,  of  the 
attitude  of  one  who  delays  the  work  of  salvation,  on  the 
pitiful  plea  that  he  is  willing,  and  waiting  for  God  to 
convert  him — he  is  refusing  obedience  to  a  Divine  com- 
mandment. He  is  acting  precisely  as  Noah  would  have 
done,  if,  when  directed  by  God  to  build  an  ark,  he  had 
waited  idly  from  year  to  year  in  his  house,  saying, 
"  When  the  Almighty  builds  the  ark,  I  am  ready  to  go 


166  GRACE    AND     WORKS. 

into  it."  Verily,  fearfulness  becomes  such  a  man.  He  is 
not  merely  slighting  an  invitation — he  is  trampling  on  a 
law  !  And  "  it  is  a  fearful  thing  to  fall  into  the  hands  of 
the  living  God."  We  are  to  work  out,  in  our  salvation, 
a  Divine  commandment ;  therefore,  we  should  give  our- 
selves to  that  work  "  with  fear  and  trembling." 

Meanwhile,  secondly — This  anxiety  arises  from  the 
thought  of  the  immense  importance  of  the  wor/c,  self-con- 
sidered. 

It  is  a  working  out — what  ?  Our  comfort  ?  Our 
prosperity  ?  Our  happiness  ?  Yes,  indeed,  but  more, 
oh,  how  much  more  !  It  is  the  working  out  our  salva- 
tion/ The  salvation  of  the  soul!  In  one  sense  the 
impenitent  man  is  lost  already ;  and  it  is  a  fearful  prob- 
lem whether  he  will  be  saved.  In  every  sense  he  is 
in  dreadful  peril,  and  there  is  unspeakable  danger  that 
he  will  finally  be  lost !  This  work,  to  Avhich  we  are 
called,  is  to  escape  from  impending  and  evei'lasting  de- 
struction. And  such  a  work,  of  self-preservation,  though 
it  may  be  done  with  the  earnest  self-possession  of  true 
courage,  is  always  done,  must  always  be  done,  "  with 
fear  and  trembling.'''' 

See  that  man  in  a  burning  house !  Roused  at  mid- 
night by  the  alarm-cry,  he  rushes  from  his  chamber  to 
find  all  avenues  of  escape  cut  off  by  the  advancing 
flames.  See,  now,  how  the  whole  man  is  instinct  with 
self- preserving  energy  !  He  ascends  to  the  roof — he 
cries  aloud  for  help — he  fastens  a  rope  to  the  tottering 
wall,  and  lets  himself  down  through  smoke  and  flame 
in  the  very  strength  of  despair !  Now,  you  may  admire 
his  stanch  courage ;  but  the  man  will  tell  you  that  his 
work  for  life  was  "  with  fear  and  trembling." 


GRACE    AND     WORKS.  167 

See  that  bark  upon  the  waters,  on  a  lee-shore,  in  a 
night  of  storm,  as  the  fierce  hurricane  drives  it  upon 
breakers!  Behold  the  imperiled  mariner!  How  he 
rouses  himself  in  mighty  energies,  with  rudder  and  sail, 
and  anchor,  to  escape  for  his  life  !  Fearlessly  resolute 
he  may  seem  to  you  ;  but  to  his  own  heart,  at  least,  he 
is  working  with  "  fear  and  trembling." 

And  so  is  it  always  when  great  interests  are  at  stake. 
It  is  no  time  for  sentimental  or  philosophic  thought, 
when  a  precipice  is  crumbling  at  our  feet,  or  an  earth- 
quake is  rocking  the  dwellings  around  us.  Then,  at 
least,  it  is  time  for  those  tremendous  efforts  which  men 
put  forth  when  the  grave  yawns  in  our  path  and  death 
overshadows  us. 

How,  then,  ought  a  man  to  labor,  "  when  he  works  out 
his  salvation!"  When  his  immortal  soul  is  in  jeopardy  ! 
When  the  fearful  problem  he  is  working  out  in  the  face 
of  the  universe  is — whether  he  shall  be  saved,  or  lost,  for- 
ever! When  the  heaven  of  blessedness  is  receding,  as 
he  gazes,  farther  and  farther  away,  with  its  eternal 
weight  of  glory !  When  the  hell  of  despair  is  opening 
at  his  feet,  and  he  seems  tottering  on  its  awful  brink, 
and  going  down  into  it !  Verily,  it  becomes  a  man  to 
work  "  with  fear  and  trembling''''  when  he  "  icorks  out  his 
salvation.''''  It  becomes  a  man  to  be  anxious,  to  be 
alarmed,  to  be  all  in  earnest,  to  be  waking  affrighted 
from  his  sinful  dreams,  when  the  flames  that  encircle 
his  pillow  are — eternal  burnings  !  To  be  putting  forth 
the  strength  and  the  skill  of  his  seamanship,  when  the 
tempest  of  God's  wrath  is  dark  on  the  waters,  and  to  be 
shipwrecked  in  the  storm  is  to  be — "  a  castaway  for- 
ever /" 


168  GRACE    AND     WORKS. 

Moreover,  thirdly — This  anxiety  arises  from  the 
thought,  that  tins  work  of  salvation  is  a  work  of  great 
difficulty. 

To  measure  energies  by  exigencies,  is  the  great  law 
of  life.  The  man  who  walks  calm  and  tranquil  on  a 
plain,  becomes  powerfully  excited  when  he  climbs  a 
precipice.  Now,  we  say,  it  is  a  mighty  and  difficult 
work  to  be  saved.  I  am  aware  that,  in  asserting  this, 
I  am  probably  contradicting  a  popular  impression.  We 
hear  so  much,  in  modern  times,  about  the  ease  of  salva- 
tion, that  one  is  almost  persuaded  that  "  the  offense  of 
the  cross"  hath  ceased;  and  that  a  man  goes  to  glory 
now,  not  walking  as  a  pilgrim,  but  carried  softly  as  a 
passenger.  "  To  be  saved  is  only  to  repent  and  be- 
lieve," say  these  men.  And  they  say  truly — it  is  only 
to  repent  and  believe.  But,  then,  where  have  they 
learned  that  this  "  repentance "  and  "  faith "  are  such 
easy  exercises  ? 

Repentance  is  breaking  off  from  sin,  with  a  resolute 
set  of  the  affections  heavenward — and  is  this  easy? 
For  the  proud  man  to  become  humble ;  the  licentious 
man  to  become  pure ;  the  worldly-minded  man  to  be- 
come heavenly  ;  the  man  covetous,  cruel,  faithless,  god- 
less, to  become  faithful,  and  gentle,  and  holy,  a  follower 
of  Jesus,  a  worshiper  of  the  true  God,  in  spirit  and  in 
truth — is  this  easy?  To  conquer  those  passions  that 
since  the  world  began  have  defied  all  the  reasonings  of 
philosophy,  all  the  rewards  and  punishments  of  human 
tribunals — is  this  easy  ?  To  cut  off  a  right  hand ;  to 
pluck  out  a  right  eye ;  to  crucify  the  whole  body  of  a 
carnal  nature,  as  a  mortified  and  dying  thing,  on  the 
cross — is  this  easy?     Did  Paul  find   it  easy,  when,  as 


GRACE    AND     WORKS.  169 

one  almost  overborne  in  the  wild  tides  of  battle,  he 
cried  out,  "Oh,  wretched  man  that  I  am!  who  shall 
deliver  me  from  the  body  of  this  death?" 

Or  is  Faith  easy?  "Faith"  is  tru^t  for  salvation  in  an 
unseen  Christ.  Is  this  easy?  To  feel  ourselves  to  be 
nothing;  to  sink  from  all  our  self-righteousness;  to  see 
what  is  invisible;  to  hear  what  is  inaudible;  to  turn  from 
all  surrounding  and  sensible  glories,  and  long  for,  and 
love  only,  the  far  away  and  eternal — is  this  easy?  No, 
alas,  oh,  no !  It  may  seem  so,  indeed,  to  speculating  and 
inexperienced  philosophy.  The  prophet  said  unto  Naa- 
man,  "  Go  wash  seven  times  in  the  Jordan,  and  thou 
shalt  be  healed."  "  Oh,  how  easy,"  say  these  men.  But 
we  say,  No !  This  was  the  very  hardest  thing  in  the 
world  for  that  proud  heart  to  do.  He  could  have  fought 
a  hundred  battles,  and  carried  by  storm  a  hundred  walled 
cities,  with  less  of  struggle  than  it  cost  him  to  humble 
his  haughty  nature,  to  do  the  prophet's  bidding.  He 
could  have  conquered  ten  thousand  mailed  Israelites, 
with  less  of  agonizing  conflict  than  it  cost  him  to  conquer 
— himself! 

And  so  it  is  of  salvation.  It  is  an  easy  thing  to  feel  a 
sentimental  sadness  over  past  errors;  it  is  easy  to  join  a 
church ;  it  is  easy  to  imagine  we  feel  very  happy ;  it  is 
easy  to  utter  eloquent  prayers,  and  sing  exulting  hallelu- 
jahs. But  to  become  a  humble,  penitent,  faithful,  de- 
voted, holy  child  of  God,  this  is  a  hard  thing.  It  is  a 
race — a  battle — a  crucifixion  of  the  flesh — a  taking  heaven 
by  violence ! 

But,  then,  methinks  I  hear  you  say,  "  Though  all  this 
be  hard,  nay,  impossible,  without  Divine  assistance,  yet, 
through  the  strengthening  grace  of  God,  it  becomes  alto- 
8 


170  GRACE    AND     WORKS. 

gether  easy."  But  what  says  ray  text  ?  How  stands  the 
argument  in  the  apostolic  thought  ?  "  God  worketh  in 
you  to  will  and  to  do."  This  the  grand  fact  as  to  God's 
gracious  assistance — but  what  the  apostolic  inference? 
Therefore,  be  unconcerned?  be  at  ease  in  Zion?  leave 
the  whole  earnest  work  of  salvation  to  God,  and  only 
sing  hallelujahs  ?  Does  Paul  reason  thus  ?  Listen  ! 
"  God  worketh  in  you,  therefore  work  out  your  salvation 

WITH  FEAR  AND  TREMBLING  !" 

Oh,  be  instructed,  ye  wise  men !  Paul's  free  grace 
had  no  tendency  to  licentiousness.  The  fact  that  salva- 
tion is  all  of  grace — a  work  so  immense  that  we  can  not 
take  a  step  heavenward,  save  in  the  strength  of  Jehovah 
— this  is  the  very  reason  why  we  should  set  about  it,  and 
continue  in  it,  with  mighty  earnestness.  This  almighty 
agency  within  and  around  us,  is  a  tremendous  excitement 
to  exertion.  See  the  roused  Lot  fleeing  from  Sodom  to 
Zoar !  Does  he  reason  that,  because  the  angels  are  draw- 
ing him  by  the  hand,  he  need  not  exert  himself?  Ah,  no, 
just  the  opposite.  He  says,  "It  must  surely  be  an  im- 
mense necessity  that  brings  this  heavenly  ministry  around 
me ;  therefore,  with  all  the  power  that  is  in  me  will  I  flee 
to  the  mountains !" 

And  thus  is  it  in  salvation.  If  God  worketh  in  me, 
then  I  see  and  know  that  all  heaven  is  concerned  for  me. 
If  God  bend  from  his  own  throne  to  strengthen  me,  then 
it  must  be  a  fearful  battle  my  poor  arm  is  fighting — a 
tremendous  tempest  ray  frail  bark  is  weathering !  And 
I  must  bestir  myself.  I  must  rouse  myself  to  the  utter-, 
most.  I  must  fling  away  the  scabbard,  as  I  spring  to 
the  conflict.  I  must  gird  myself  in  my  mightiest  seaman- 
ship, to  bring  my  imperiled  bark  to  the  everlasting  har- 


GRACE    AND     WORKS.  171 

bor.  This  is  the  true  argument.  This  is  Paul's  argument. 
Not  finding,  in  the  aid  of  Divine  grace,  an  encouragement 
to  idleness,  but  the  rather  an  incitement  to  more  earnest 
and  anxious  struggles — "working  out  my  salvation  with 
fear  and  trembling — for — foe — it  is  God  that  worketh 
in  me  both  to  will  and  to  do.'''' 

This,  then,  is  the  matter  and  the  manner  of  the  apos- 
tolic exhortation.  Let  us  close  with  its  shortest  and 
simplest  application. 

First — It  is  an  exhortation  to  Christians.  The  text 
was  addressed,  originally,  to  believers  in  Philippi;  and 
to  professing  Christians,  in  all  time,  it  most  solemnly 
appeals.  A  firm  believer,  as  Paul  was,  in  the  great  doc- 
trine of  "  the  saints'  perseverance,"  yet  in  his  mind  it  had 
no  tendency  to  lull  into  security.  Though  he  could  say, 
u I  know  in  whom  I  have  believed,  and  am  persuaded  tin  it 
he  is  able  to  keep  that  ichich  I  have  committed  to  him" 
nevertheless,  to  the  very  end  of  his  life  we  find  him,  with 
all  his  intensest  energies,  stemming  the  flood,  and  fighting 
the  battle,  under  the  abiding  and  awful  thought  that, 
after  all,  he  himself  might  be  a  castaway. 

And  if  Paul  was  thus  anxious,  who  of  mortal  men 
should  be  over-confident,  and  at  ease  in  Zion.  This  very 
argument,  wherewith  we  sometimes  rock  ourselves  to 
slumber — "  "We  have  an  almighty  Saviour,  and  the  Holy 
Ghost  dwells  in  us," — this  is  just  Paul's  argument  for 
mightier  exertion.  "  Work  out  your  own  salvation  with 
fear  and  trembling,  for  God  worketh  in  you." 

Yes,  my  brethren,  it  is  yet  an  unsolved  problem — 
whether  any  of  us  will  be  saved !  To  us,  with  all  its  ter- 
rible meaning,  comes  this  Divine  commandment — "  Work 
out  your  own  salvation."     Perhaps  we  have  been  greatly 


172  OR  ACE    AND     WORKS. 

concerned  about  other  men.  Let  us  begin  to  be  as  greatly 
concerned  for  ourselves.  Let  us  see  that  we  are  not,  like 
Moses,  leading  others  to  a  Canaan  we  ourselves  shall  only- 
die  in  sight  of,  and  never,  never  enter.  Alas,  how  many 
professing  Christians  have  made  shipwreck  of  the  faith ! 
And  from  the  fragments  of  ten  thousand  immortal  argo- 
sies, that  bestrew  the  whole  shore  of  time,  the  awful  warn- 
ing rises — "  Work  out,  oh,  work  out,  tour  own  salvation!" 
Yes,  "work  out  your  own  salvation,  with  fear  and 
tcemblixg" — earnestly — anxiously!  Christian  life  is  a 
voyage  across  an  ocean  arched  by  dark  skies  and  swept 
by  fierce  storms.  And  ofttimes  "we  behold,  by  the 
flashes  of  lightning,  the  tempest-tossed  bark  laboring 
fearfully  with  the  rolling  seas,  and  the  roaring  hurricane. 
And  never,  till  across  the  raging  flood,  and  within  shel- 
ter of  the  everlasting  hills,  it  hath  cast  anchor  for  eter- 
nity, do  we  feel  certain,  in  any  given  case,  that  the  soul 
hath  escaped  shipwreck.  Oh,  then,  professing  Chris- 
tians, rouse  yourselves  from  this  false  and  fatal  security  ! 
Fight — struggle — agonize  !     Be  anxious  for  yourselves  ! 

"  Oh,  watch,  and  fight,  and  pray, 
The  battle  ne'er  give  o'er; 
Renew  it  boldly  every  day, 
And  help  Diviue  implore. 

"  Ne'er  think  the  victory  won, 
Nor  once  at  ease  sit  down  ; 
Thy  arduous  work  will  not  be  done, 
Till  thou  hast  got  thy  crown." 

"While  God  worketh  in  you  to  will  and  to  do,  of  his 
own  good  pleasure,  work  out  your  own  salvation  with  fear 
and  trembling.'''' 


GRACE    AND     WORKS.  173 

Meanwhile,  secondly — T/i e  text  appeals  to  impenitent 
Sinners.  And  how  fearful  the  point  of  the  a  fortiori 
application — "If  the  righteous  scarcely  be  saved,  where 
shall  the  ungodly  and  the  sinner  appear?'''' 

Alas  for  the  madness  of  the  infatuation  that,  regarding 
salvation  as  a  very  easy  work,  puts  it  oft',  with  all  its 
tremendous  interests,  and  infinite  issues,  to  a  sick-bed 
and  a  dying  hour !  Alas,  for  the  soul-destroying  logic— 
that  because'  the  Son  of  God  saves  us,  and  the  Spirit  of 
God  sanctities  us,  therefore  man  has  nothing  to  do  but  to 
wait  for  salvation  !  Oh,  no,  no  !  Salvation  is  a  work — 
a  mighty  work— your  own  mighty  work!  And  because 
"  God  worketh  in  you,"  therefore  it  is  to  be  wrought  out 
by  yourselves  the  more  instantly  and  earnestly,  "  with 
fear  and  trembling" 

"Faith  in  Christ''''  is  not  an  idle  sentiment.  "Repent- 
ance "  is  not  a  passing  spasm  of  sorrow,  nor  a  poor,  pal- 
try, superficial  reformation.  Salvation  is  a  work,  so  big, 
so  overwhelming,  that,  even  while  God  works  in  the  soul, 
that  soul  must  work  it  out  with  fear  and  trembling.  It 
is  high  time,  then,  you  should  be  alarmed.  Your  immor- 
tal soul  is  in  jeopardy  !  Your  feet  are  on  slippery  places ! 
You  sleep  and  dream  of  heaven  on  a  yawning  precipice! 

Oh,  the  folly,  the  unutterable  madness  of  a  soul  that  is 
not  working  out  its  salvation !  That  casts  all  the  great 
interests  of  eternity  upon  the  fearful  chance  of  a  future 
repentance  !  That  can  bear  to  look  upward,  and  behold 
yonder  blessed  home  of  heaven,  with  all  its  far  more  ex- 
ceeding and  eternal  weight  of  glory,  fading,  slowly  and 
surely,  away  forever  !  That  can  venture  to  gaze  down- 
ward, into  that  estate  of  wrath,  and  tribulation,  and  an- 
guish— drawing  nearer,  nearer — rising  closer  to  the  un- 


174  GRACE    AND     WORKS. 

steady  feet,  with  all  its  wild  realities — moving  beneath 
to  meet  its  fearful  coming — and  yet  sport  on  the  brink,  as 
if  enamored  of  damnation  ! 

Oh,  what  mean  yon !  Men,  men,  immortal  men, 
awake  from  your  slumbers  !  This  very  day — this  very 
hour — this  very  moment — ere  the  spirit  that  moves  even 
now  upon  your  hearts,  grieved  by  your  resistance,  leaves 
yon  forever  !  Now — now — just  as  you  are — begin  for 
your  lives  this  great  work  of  salvation  ! 

Oh,  we  warn  you,  we  beseech  you,  we  entreat  you — 
with  all  the  strength  God  gives  us — by  all  the  motives 
God  presses  on  your  conscience — by  the  shortness  and 
uncertainty  of  life — by  the  near  approach  of  death — by 
the  tremendous  realities  that  make  up  eternity — all  the 
shadows  that  make  up  its  glooms— all  the  splendors  that 
make  up  its  glories — by  all  the  vast  interests  that  are  at 
stake — your  soul — your  immortal  self,  tossed  like  a 
breaking  bubble  on  a  sea  of  storms — by  all  the  mighty 
influences  that  are  at  work  for  your  salvation — that 
father,  that  mother,  that  sister,  that  wife,  that  child, 
these  praying,  weeping  Christians — yea,  these  shining 
angels,  that  all  unseen  hover  over  you — yea,  the  eternal 
God  that  worketh  within  yon — the  Father,  with  his  love 
— the  Son,  with  his  precious  blood — the  Spirit,  with  his 
gentle  influences — by  the  stupendous  realities  of  all  God's 
universe,  which  hem  you  in,  and  move  around  you,  as  if 
working  only  to  save  you — oh,  by  all  these  things,  we 
pray  you,  we  plead  with  you,  Ave  beseech  you,  that, 
"  while  God  toorketh  in  you  to  will  and  to  do,  you  work 

OUT  YOUR  OWN   SALVATION   WITH  FEAR  AND  TREMBLING." 


"THE   DIVISION   OF   SPOIL.' 


"And  divideth  his  spoils.'" — Luke  xi.  22. 

I  separate  these  words  from  their  connections,  as 
containing  a  complete  thought  sufficient  for  present 
meditation.  They  occur  in  the  winding  up  of  our 
Lord's  parable  of  "  The  strong  man  armed."  That 
parable  contains  three  great  divisions ;  and,  as  you 
read  it,  three  distinct  scenes  seem  passing  before  you. 

First — There  is  a  noble  palace,  or  stronghold,  in- 
disputably in  possession  of  its  armed  master ;  and 
this  represents  the  sad  condition  of  that  man  over 
whose  moral  nature  Satan  maintains  un weakened  as- 
cendency. 

Secondly — There  is  the  approach  of  a  great  con- 
queror to  this  stronghold,  lifting  his  challenge  at  the 
portal — yea,  storming  it,  and  carrying  it  by  assault, 
and  taking  captive  its  owner.  And  this  represents 
the  triumph  of  Christ  over  Satan,  either  in  a  regener- 
ated spirit  or  a  redeemed  world. 

Thirdly — There  is  a  despoiling  the  conquered  strong 
man  of  his  armor,  and  a  public  distribution  of  all  the 
stores  and  treasures  taken  in  the  fortress — as  it  is 
termed  in  the  text,  "A  division  of  the  spoil." 

Now,  leaving  for  the  present  the  first  two  pictures, 


176  THE    DIVISION    OF    SPOIL. 

we  will  consider  this  last  and  least  pondered  part  of 
the  record — "lie  divideth  his  spoil.'1'' 

These  words  at  first  surprise  us.  We  are  expressly 
told  that  the  design  of  Christ's  mission  was  "  to  destroy 
the  works  of  the  devil ;"  and,  regarding  this  parable  as 
illustrating  this  conflict,  we  should  expect  the  recoi*d  to 
be,  that,  having  conquered  a  satanic  fastness,  Christ  at 
once  destroyed  all  its  accumulated  treasures.  But  not  so. 
The  Divine  conqueror  is  here  represented  as  not  destroy- 
ing, but  "dividing  the  spoil,"  i.e.,  employing  for  his 
own  cause  and  glory  every  thing  that,  before  the  con- 
quest, Satan  had  been  using  for  his  own  evil  purposes. 
Just  as  in  natural  warfare,  when  military  stores  are 
taken,  the  conqueror  makes  use  of  them  for  his  own 
further  success. 

Now,  this  is  the  overlooked  and  apparently  unim- 
portant point  in  the  parable  we  wish  practically  to 
consider  as  setting  forth  this  simple  proposition — That 
Christ  Jesus,  in  the  victories  of  his  grace,  whether  in- 
dividual or  universal,  turns  to  his  own  advantage,  and 
employs  for  his  own  glory  all  those  physical  powers  and 
intellectual  endowments — that  whole  array  of  influence 
and  engine  which  previously  the  great  adversary  had 
perverted  and  made  powerful  for  evil. 

And  for  this  thought  we  claim  a  twofold  application, 
according  to  the  view  we  take  of  the  individual  or  uni- 
versal sense  of  the  parable. 

First — We  begin  with  the  individual,  as  certainly  the 
most  obvious  reference  of  the  lesson — the  case  of  a  sinful 
soul  conquered  by  Christ  in  the  process  of  i*egeneration. 

And  thus  it  serves  to  rectify  some  wrong  conceptions 
often  entertained  of  the  nature  of  regeneration.     Setting 


THE    DIVISION    OF    SPOIL.  177 

out  with  the  Bible  representation,  of  man  by  nature  as 
totally  depraved,  and  the  new  birth  as  making  him  a 
new  creature,  and  ignoring  the  while  the  whole  analogy 
of  faith,  wherein  many  of  his  natural  virtues  are  com- 
mended in  God's  Word,  we  make  often  such  rejire- 
sentations  of  the  unregenerate  man  as  he  himself  knows 
to  be  false  and  unscriptural. 

lie  knows  that  he  daily  experiences  many  feelings  and 
performs  many  acts  that  are  both  approved  by  an  en- 
lightened conscience  and  enjoined  in  God's  word.  He 
provides  for  his  household — he  honors  his  parents — he 
hallows  the  Sabbath-day — he  gives  bread  to  the  hungry 
— he  feels  within  him  great  impulses  of  patriotism  and 
philanthropy,  and  proves  himself,  by  the  facts  of  a  well- 
tried  life,  a  man  of  unsullied  and  uncompromising  in- 
tegrity. And  if  you  tell  such  a  man  that,  self-considered 
(apart  from  the  fact  that  his  morality  is  not  godliness), 
all  these  virtues  are  sinful,  he  will  laugh  you  to  scorn  as 
a  slanderer  of  your  species,  and  a  filsifier  of  the  very 
principles  and  precepts  of  God's  revealed  law.  And  all 
this  justly.  When  the  Bible  speaks  of  men  as  dead  in 
sin  and  totally  depraved,  it  refers  to  his  entire  alienation 
from  God — to  his  absolute  want  of  supreme  love  to  his 
Maker. 

We  are  not  concerned  here  with  the  argument,  but 
only  with  our  text's  illustration  of  its  truth.  Here  the 
representation  of  the  great  change  wrought  in  the  re- 
generated soul,  is  only  a  change  in  the  sovereignty  that 
overrules  it.  A  change  not  in  the  house's  furniture  and 
appointments,  but  in  their  uses  and  ownership.  The 
stronger  man  has  not  come  to  destroy  what  was  in 
the  fortress,  but  to  rescue  it  all  from  the  hands  of  the 

8* 


178         THE    DIVISION    OF    SPOIL. 

strong  man,  and  turn  it  to  his  own  purposes.  Those 
very  endowments  of  reason,  imagination,  wit,  wealth, 
power — acquirements  which  before  were  exercised  sin- 
fully, because,  without  godliness,  Christ  would  now 
employ  for  man's  good  and  God's  glory — not  destroying, 
but  only  "  dividing  the  spoil."  And  this  is  the  very  idea 
wTe  would  have  you  entertain,  because,  the  very  idea  the 
Bible  gives  you  of  regeneration.  It  does  not  make  the 
man  another  creature,  but  only  a  new  creature.  And 
not  even  a  new  creature,  in  the  sense  of  jDossessing  new 
natural  faculties,  but  only  in  the  sense  of  their  conse- 
cration unto  a  new  service.  The  Gospel  invitation  is, 
that  men  come  just  as  they  are,  with  all  their  strong  im- 
pulses and  emotions  within  them,  if  they  be  only  amove 
for  God's  glory  and  consecrate  to  Christ.  We  do  not 
want  the  covetous  man  to  abate  in  one  tittle  his  desire 
for  accumulation ;  but  rather  to  give  a  wider  range  and 
mightier  power  to  that  prostituted  faculty,  as,  sanctified 
from  its  sinfulness,  it  impels,  "to  lay  up  treasure  in 
heaven,"  and  "  become  rich  toward  God."  We  do  not 
expect  the  man  seeking  pleasure  to  annihilate  the  princi- 
ple implanted  by  God  for  great  uses ;  but,  rather,  to  fill 
his  soul  with  intenser  longings,  as  he  aspires  unto  those 
everlasting  pleasures  that  are  at  God's  right  hand.  We 
do  not  want  the  ambitious  man  to  bow  down  his  aspir- 
ing spirit  to  the  low  ends  and  aims  of  the  multitude ;  but 
would  rather  bid  his  soul  God-speed  in  its  bravest 
marchings — out-weeping  Caesar  for  new  worlds  to  con- 
quer for  Jesus  ;  and  reaching  forth  a  sanctified  hand  to 
grasp  the  sceptre  over  the  whole  ten  cities  in  the  king- 
dom of  God. 

We  want  the  man  of  genius  to  repress  no  immortal 


THE    DIVISION    OF    SPOIL.  179 

pulse  now  bounding  within  him,  l>ut  rather  give  them 
all  nobler  play  ;  coming  with  all  the  fire  in  his  eye  and  all 
the  fervors  of  his  spirit — iirst,  casting  them  at  Christ's 
feet  in  living  consecration ;  and  then  out-soaring  the 
wing  of  all  earthly  inspiration  in  flight  through  the 
skies ! 

We  want,  in  short,  the  very  adornments  of  unsanctified 
life,  wherewith  Satan  has  beautified  evTcn  his  iron  des- 
potism, only  changed  by  regenerating  grace  from  glory 
to  glory,  to  furnish  forth  even  loftier  adornments  for  the 
blessed  reign  of  Christ. 

We  would  not  apply  fagot  or  torch  to  a  solitary 
one  of  the  hoarded  treasures  of  the  "strong  man;"  but 
rather,  Avhen  the  "  stronger  man "  has  carried  the  for- 
tress, would  have  them  all  consecrated  to  the  display  of 
his  own  great  glory,  as  a  victorious  conqueror,  "  divid- 
ing his  spoil." 

Ah,  God  does  not  demand  merely  the  heart's  love,  but 
as  well  that  of  the  mind,  and  the  soul,  and  the  strength  ! 
God  wants  not  merely  the  offerings  of  the  tender  af- 
fections ;  he  claims  as  fully  all  the  loftiest  intellectual 
gifts  and  attainments — science  with  its  profoundest  dis- 
coveries ;  eloquence  with  its  grandest  utterances  ;  poetry 
with  its  most  glorious  visions ;  ambition  with  its  kin- 
dling eye ;  and  genius  with  divinest  power — all  earn- 
estly busy  in  Jehovah's  service — all  flashing  in  adorn- 
ment of  the  doctrines  of  Christ.  For,  surely,  there  is  no 
faculty  natural  to  man,  which  at  creation  God  did  not  set 
as  a  brilliant  in  Humanity's  diadem.  And  though,  alas! 
by  a  sorrowful  perversion,  they  have  become  servants 
unto  uncleanness  ;  yet,  if  only  once  the  strong  man  be 
mastered  by  the  sti'onger,  then  as  treasures  consecrated 


ISO  TEE    DIVISION    OF    SPOIL. 

unto  his  own  high  purposes,  tliey  shall  be  borne  aloft 
in  his  final  triumph,  as  the  trophies  of  a  returning  con- 
queror, "dividing  his  spoils." 

Such,  according  to  the  theology  of  God's  own  book, 
is  Gospel  regeneration.  And,  here,  ere  we  pass  to  the 
text's  larger  application,  let  me  press  this  thought  upon 
your  conscience  as  a  motive  unto  repentance. 

What  is  it  to  repent  and  believe,  and  thus  to  become 
Christians?  Surely  it  is  not,  as  on  the  one  hand  the  bigot, 
and  on  the  other  the  blasphemer,  would  teach,  to  yield  to 
the  power  of  a  poor  driveling  fanaticism,  in  the  self-sacri- 
fice and  denial  of  all  grand  human  impulses ! 

To  be  a  Christian,  is  simply  and  truly  to  be  the  high- 
est style  of  man  !  To  have  all  the  faculties  and  impulses 
of  your  nature  lifted  from  the  perishing  things  of  earth, 
and  accelerated  in  their  movement  toward  the  immense 
realities  of  eternity.  In  the  very  figure  of  the  text,  Christ 
represents  himself  as  standing  at  the  door  of  your  closed 
hearts — i.  e.,  at  the  barred  portal  of  the  strong  man's  pal- 
ace. And  his  purpose  in  demanding  admission  is,  not  that 
he  may  work  destruction  and  desolation  amid  the  famil- 
iar things  that  adorn  its  chambers.  Oh,  no ;  he  would 
enter  only  to  conquer  and  bind  the  despot  that  enslaves 
you — to  unshutter  the  darkened  windows,  and  let  in 
heavenly  airs,  and  odors,  and  sunshine ;  and,  reviving  in 
all  their  original  beauty,  and  replacing  in  all  their  origi- 
nal glory,  its  magnificent  adornments,  transform  it  from 
the  haunt  of  a  demon  to  the  home  of  a  God ! 

But  now  let  us  pass  from  the  individual  to  consider — 

Secondly — The  text's  wider  and  universal  application. 
This  Satanic  despotism  over  the  human  heart  is  in  ex- 
act analogy  with  his  despotism  over  the  earth  as  man's 


TEE    DIVISION   OF  SPOIL.  181 

dwelling-place.  The  Bible  everywhere  represents  this 
fallen  spirit  as  practically  "  the  god  of  this  world." 
And  this  revelation,  observation  everywhere  proves  true. 
So  far  as  the  practical  life  of  the  race  is  concerned — so 
fir  as  regards  any  universal  sense  of  his  infinite  presence 
— so  far  as  manifest  in  any  popular  acknowledgment  of 
his  right  to  rule  over  the  world,  Jehovah  might  as  well 
have  yielded  his  throne  to  his  great  adversary,  and  re- 
tired, as  a  deposed  sovereign,  to  some  unrevoked  realm 
of  his  immense  empire.  And,  therefore,  the  text-figure 
fitly  represents  this  world  as  a  grand  fortress,  or 
strongly  guarded  palace,  wherein  Satan,  as  a  strong 
man,  keeps  his  treasures  at  peace ! 

But  if  there  be  truth  in  other  Bible  revelations,  all  this 
is  to  cease.  Presently  there  shall  rise  at  the  portal  a 
heavenly  challenge,  and  "the  strong  man"  shall  be  mas- 
tered by  "  one  stronger  than  he."  This  earth  is  not 
always  to  be  garrisoned  by  Infernals !  God  did  not 
round  it  into  beauty,  and  hang  it  amid  the  stars,  and 
lavish  such  cost  and  skill  in  its  architecture  and  adorn- 
ments, that  it  should  forever  be  at  peace  under  a  despot- 
ism of  demons !  No !  the  time  of  change  cometh — a 
deliverance  draweth  nigh !  "Lift  up  your  heads,  0  ye 
gates y  and  be  ye  lift  up,  ye  everlasting  doors;  and  the 
King  of  glory  shall  come  in."  The  kingdoms  and 
dominions  under  the  whole  heavens  are  to  become  Im- 
manuel's,  and  this  world  become  manifestly  again  the 
abode  of  a  universally  acknowledged  Jehovah.  All  this 
we  are  assured  of.  All  this  we  believe.  But  then,  we  do 
not  believe  that,  as  a  result  of  this,  earth  is  suddenly  to  be 
transfigured,  as  into  another  planet.  Here,  in  the  uni- 
versal as  in  the  individual,  we  look  for  this  oreat  law  of 


182  THE    DIVISION    OF    SPOIL. 

conquest — that,  having  hound  the  strong  man  and  taken 
away  his  armor,  our  glorious  Redeemer  will  not  destroy 
the  spoil,  but  will  only  "  divide  the  spoiV 

We  judge  that  the  world,  under  Messiah's  reign,  will 
be  the  world  as  it  is,  only  redeemed  from  sin  and  re- 
established in,  and  filled  with,  all  righteousness. 

Physically  it  will  be  the  same  world,  but  instead  of 
working  disobedience  to  the  precepts  of  the  Divine  law, 
all  natural  agents  and  processes  shall  be  consecrated  to 
Christ ;  and  holiness  to  the  Lord  "  shall  be  written  on 
the  bells  of  the  horses." 

Intellectually  it  will  be  the  same  world,  and  all  sciences 
and  arts  flourish,  and  poetry  see  visions,  and  eloquence 
utter  prophecies;  but  literature  shall  embalm  with  sweet 
spices  the  name  of  the  Crucified,  and  science  shall  go 
forth  along  all  its  broad  journey ings,  only  searching 
for  God. 

Socially  and  politically,  it  will  be  the  same ;  and  though 
all  despotisms  shall  cease,  and  every  oppressor's  rod  be 
broken,  yet,  as  under  the  old  Hebrew  theocracy  different 
civil  polities  successively  obtained,  so  then  there  may  be 
all  present  forms  of  government.  But,  high  above  finite 
magistracy  shall  rise  one  omnipotent  enthronement, 
and  monarchs,  and  princes,  and  presidents,  and  mighty 
men,  shall  be  mighty  men,  and  presidents,  and  kings  unto 
God. 

Perhaps,  ecclesiastically  it  will  be  the  same.  All  sys- 
tems of  false  worship  and  corrupt  faith  will,  of  course, 
pass  away;  because,  even  as  represented  in  this  parable, 
they  are  not  so  much  the  enemy's  spoil,  to  be  divided,  as 
his  armor  to  be  destroyed.  And,  therefore,  we  will  not 
be  misunderstood  as  hoping  that  any  such  false  system 


THE    DIVISION    OF    SPOIL.         183 

(as,  for  example,  the  papacy)  can  be  so  regenerated  as 
to  become  part  of  Christ's  true  Church.  For,  disguised, 
and  modified,  and  humanized  as  it  may  be,  in  its  very 
claim  to  infallibility  it  gives  assurance  that  it  will  to  the 
end  remain  the  same  monster  that  in  centuries  agone 
warmed  its  wan  hands  by  the  fires  of  martyrdom,  and 
reeled  frantic  and  drunken  with  the  blood  of  God's  mur- 
dered saints !  There  are  in  it  elements  utterly  incompat- 
ible with  the  true  faith  in  Christ ;  and  notwithstanding 
all  disguises,  all  crosses  on  battlements,  and  blazon  of  Di- 
vine names  on  lintel  and  threshold,  it  is  yet  a  true  fortress 
of  the  adversary.  And  as  the  great  Captain  of  Salvation 
makes  no  compromises  with  the  strong  man,  so  surely 
will  he  carry  his  fortress  by  storm,  and  bind  the  adver- 
sary, and  break  in  pieces  his  armor. 

And  yet,  even  in  respect  of  a  system  so  false,  we  are 
not  sui*e  that  there  may  not  be  spoil  to  be  divided,  as 
well  as  armor  to  be  destroyed !  The  very  things  which 
have  made  popery  so  mighty  in  old  times — the  zeal,  and 
perseverance,  and  self-sacrificing  devotion,  and  indomita- 
ble daring,  and  grand  old  Roman  world-grasping  ambi- 
tion— in  a  word,  that  whole  matchless  machinery,  so 
wonderful  in  its  contrivances,  so  mighty  in  its  work, 
which  belongs  to  it,  beyond  all  Protestant  rivalry,  as 
aggressively  missionary,  may  remain  to  bless  the  true 
Church  when  its  own  doom  is  sealed. 

And  this  is  what  in  that  regard,  as  of  all  false  systems, 
reconciles  us  to  their  progress.  They  are  like  the  mon- 
strous flora  and  fauna  of  the  old  geologic  eras — parts  of 
a  progress  toward  intellectual  life.  They  are  all  gather- 
ing treasures  as  a  spoil  for  the  Redeemer;  and  while, 
sometimes,  the  heart  is  sad  as  we  see  them  laying  deep 


184         TEE    DIVISION    OF    SPOIL. 

and  broad  foundations  even  in  this  Western  world,  yet 
we  remember  our  parable  and  are  comforted.  And  we 
say,  "Go  build  great  cathedrals,  and  strengthen  mighty 
systems.  You  yet  work  and  build  for  the  Church  of 
Christ.  For  there  cometh  presently  a  conqueror  who 
'  divideth  the  spoiV  " 

But  all  this  by  the  way.  Speaking  now  of  the  redeemed 
world  as  to  remain  ecclesiastically  like  the  present,  we 
mean  that  the  true  Church  of  Christ  will  probably  con- 
tinue formally  very  much  what  it  is.  We  have  no  belief, 
indeed  no  desire,  that  the  millennial  Church  shall  take  the 
form  of  one  mighty  denomination.  Even  John's  glori- 
ous vision  of  that  Church  was  not  of  one  immense  gate 
through  which  all  the  tribes  passed  into  the  Celestial 
City ;  but  of  twelve  separate  gates,  each  inscribed  with 
its  own  name,  and  kept  by  its  own  angel.  Talk  as  we 
will  of  organic  church  unions,  these  denominational  differ- 
ences are  the  Church's  elements  of  strength ;  and  a  wise 
man  would  no  more  do  away  with  them,  if  he  could, 
than  he  would  consolidate  all  the  companies  of  one  army 
into  one  band,  uniform  in  equipment  and  armor. 

Even  in  the  millennial  Church,  there  may  be  all  the  dis- 
tinct creeds  and  ceremonies  the  Church  knows  to-day. 
The  Baptist  may  still  go  down  to  "  many  waters,"  and 
the  Churchman  delight  in  his  beautiful  liturgy,  and  the 
Arminian  look  fondly  on  man's  free-will  in  salvation, 
and  the  Calvinist  magnify  God's  glorious  sovereignty; 
itineracy  may  marshal  the  Church's  light  troops  in  waste 
places,  and  Church  establishments  stand  as  grand  for- 
tresses in  great  cities  and  kingdoms.  All  such  things 
may  be — probably  will  be. 

But  then,  blessed  be  God !  all  creeds  and  ceremonies 


THE    DIVISION    OF    SPOIL.  185 

shall  bo  consecrate  to  Christ — the  strong  man  shall  be 
bound  ! — there  will  be  no  devil  in  them  !  There  may- 
be Christian  sects.  There  will  be  no  unchristian  secta- 
rianism. And  the  only  strife  between  the  fellow-soldiers 
of  Christ,  will  be  the  generous  rivalry  in  the  old  crusades, 
between  the  Lions  of  England  and  the  Lilies  of  France, 
as  to  which  should  be  placed  first  and  highest  on  the 
sepulchre  of  Jesus ! 

We  m:iy  not  enlarge — enough  has  been  said  to  illus- 
trate this  universal  application  of  the  text.  That  the 
Gospel  conquest  of  the  world  is  to  consist  simply,  in  sub- 
duing its  evil — that  a  division  of  the  spoil,  and  not  the 
destruction  of  the  spoil,  will  be  the  law  of  the  victory. 

And  this  is  what  fills  us  with  joy,  even  amid  its 
seeming  strengthening  of  unbelief.  Of  this  marvelous 
human  progress,  Satan  does  indeed  seem,  sometimes, 
the  very  leader  of  the  hosts.  And  the  march  seems 
only  away  from  Christ  and  from  God.  All  the  ener- 
gies of  science  and  literature  and  philosophy  are  united 
in  an  effort  to  disprove  the  Bible.  And  the  earth 
to-day,  from  its  geologic  foundation  up  to  its  astronomic 
arches,  looks  like  the  brave  "  palace  of  the  strong  man 
whose  goods  are  at  peace."  To  the  eye  of  sense  all  this 
progress  is  toward  infidelity.  But  blessed  be  God — the 
eye  of  faith,  reading  this  parable  as  a  prophecy,  sees  how 
all  this  gathered  treasure  of  the  "  strong  man,"  is  only 
for  "  the  spoil  of  the  stronger."  And  therefore,  unto  all 
these  despisers  of  God — unto  mocking  scribe  and  scorn- 
ful philosopher — every  infidel  explorer  of  the  strata  of 
earth,  and  every  atheistic  observer  of  the  stai-s  of  heaven, 
do  we  say  boldly,  exultingly — while  the  inspiration  is 
evil  all  your  work  is  unto  good  !     You  are  only  casting 


186         THE    DIVISION    OF    SPOIL. 

up  in  the  desert  a  highway  for  Immanuel !  You  are 
only  gathering,  from  the  stones  beneath,  and  the  stars 
above,  gems  of  great  price  for  the  crown  of  the  Re- 
deemer I  You  ai-e  only  accumulating  in  "  the  strong 
man's  palace,"  "  goods  " — paintings,  statuary,  treasure; 
sumptuous  furniture  and  adornment — all  good  and  glo- 
rious things  for  his  triumphal  coming  who  "  divideth  the 
spoil!" 

"Divideth  the  spoil/"  What  a  precious  truth  it  is  ! 
Precious  in  reference  to  the  things  seen,  which  are  tem- 
poral ;  immeasurably  precious  in  reference  to  things  as 
yet  unseen  and  eternal. 

There  is  evident  allusion  here  to  the  winding-up  of 
the  present  system  of  things  at  Christ's  second  coming. 
The  language  is  metaphorical  of  the  public  triumphs 
accorded  to  old  conquerors  when  returning  from  battle. 
It  is  prophetic  of  that  coming  day,  when,  all  gracious 
purposes  being  accomplished,  God's  elect  ones  all 
gathered,  God's  enemies  all  subdued — the  earth  full  of 
the  goods  of  the  strong  man,  shall  appear  rich  in  "  spoils" 
for  the  triumph  of  its  conqueror.  And  surely,  then, 
when  ascending  from  a  burning  world  with  the  countless 
millions  of  the  risen  dead,  and  death  and  hell  dragged 
after  him  as  mighty  captives,  the  Son  of  Man  shall  sit 
on  his  throne  of  judgment,  and  pronounce  every  doom, 
and  distribute  every  trophy,  then  I  say,  will  the  text  be 
fulfilled  in  all  its  blessed  meaning,  "  He  bindeth  the  strong 
man,  and  divideth  his  sjyoils  /" 

"  The  Spoils  !"  i.  e.,  the  trophies  taken  in  battle,  to 
be  publicly  displayed  in  the  face  of  the  universe ! 
Just  as  in  the  old  Roman  "triumphs,"  following  the 
golden  chariot  of  the  conqueror,  came   the   kings   and 


TEE    DIVISION    OF    SPOIL.  18T 

princes,  and  tlie  long  train  of  noble  captives,  taken  in 
battle ;  and,  borne  in  display,  came  the  "  spoils "  of 
cities  and  kingdoms — gold  and  jewels  and  costly  array ; 
old  banners ;  brave  chariots ;  thrones  of  power  and 
diadems  of  glory:  so  in  that  day  of  Christ's  manifesta- 
tion, "  he  having  spoiled  principalities  and  potoers,  shall 
make  a  show  of  them,  triumphing  openhj  over  them.'''' 
And  then  when,  as  loyal  subjects  recaptured  from  stern 
bondage,  shall  come  the  great  company  of  the  redeemed, 
and  as  the  spoil  of  spiritual  cities  and  kingdoms,  shall 
be  seen,  all  the  old  satanic  treasure  and  armor,  reconse- 
crate unto  godliness,  and  when  in  the  awful  imagery  of 
revelation,  "  Death  and  hell  as  bound  captives  shall  be 
themselves  cast  into  hell,"  then  verily  unto  Christ, 
shall  there  be  "  made  a  show  of  them  " — a  triumph  with 
trophies  ! — a  display  of  the  spoils  ! 

But  not  a  display  only. — "He  divideth  his  spoils!" 
We  can  not  tell  what  it  means — that  distribution 
of  all  the  trophies  of  redeeming  power  and  grace,  when 
"  having  put  all  enemies  under  his  feet,"  Christ  "  shall 
deliver  up  the  kingdom  to  God,  even  the  Father." 
Imagination  trembles  as  it  lifts  wing  to  the  thought  of 
some  such  distribution,  even  among  the  persons  of  the 
adorable  God-head,  of  the  glories  of  a  consummated 
Gospel ! 

But  a  simpler  thought  to  us  is — that  all  who  have 
shared  in  Gospel  toil  shall  share  as  well  in  its  tri- 
umphs. Unto  the  angels  sent  to  minister  unto  the 
heirs  of  salvation  shall  be  glorious  recompense.  And 
richer  and  nobler  the  reward  as  unto  risen  spirits 
sitting  on  thrones — to  all  "  who  have  followed  the  Son 
of  Man  in  the  regeneration." 


188         TEE    DIVISION    OF    SPOIL. 

And  though  we  can  not  understand  these  scriptural 
intimations  now, — yet  we  shall  understand  it  all  at 
last.  And  when,  in  our  high  places  before  the  throne, 
we  perceive  how  even  the  eternal  Persons  of  the  God- 
head were  all  glorified  by  the  Gospel,  and  how  all 
unfallen  angels  as  they  shared  in  the  ministry  shall 
share  in  the  manifestation — and  how  every  child  of  God, 
according  to  his  work,  shall  reign  over  the  "one  city," 
or  the  "ten  cities "  of  God's  kingdom — then  will  the 
redeemed  and  risen  man  feel  all  the  blessed  meaning 
of  the  announcement  " He  divideth  his  spoil"  " lie  di- 
videth  his  spoil." 

Meanwhile,  one  present  practical  lesson  has  the  text 
to  us  all  to-day,  and  although  of  all  its  truths  the 
smallest  and  simplest,  it  is  to  us,  individually,  the  most 
solemn. 

In  one  sense  all  mankind  may  be  regarded  as  thus  the 
spoil  of  this  great  Conqueror.  Even  now  as  spirits 
unto  whom  salvation  is  offered  on  the  ground  of  Christ's 
victory — and  more  strictly  in  the  end,  as  all  alike  de- 
livei-ed  by  the  general  resurrection  from  the  destroyer's 
stronghold,  all  are,  in  a  sense,  trophies  of  Christ's 
mediatorial  triumph. 

And  think  of  it,  then  !  oh,  ye  immortal  creatures  of 
God,  that  will  not  have  Christ  to  reign  over  you ! 
think  of  this  awful  oracle,  uIIe  divideth  the  sjyoiV 

As  in  the  public  triumph  of  the  old  Roman  conqueror, 
the  long  train  of  captives  following  his  chariot,  marched 
to  widely  different  destinies — and  some  were  doomed 
to  death — and  some  were  admitted  to  noble  Roman 
citizenship  when  the  pageant  was  ended. 

So  the  Bible  declares  it   shall   be   in    Christ's   great 


TEE  DIVISION    OF    SPOIL.  189 

day  of  manifestation.  And  oh,  in  that  solemn  hour, 
when  that  multitude  of  the  redeemed  ascend,  with  palm 
and  white  rohe  and  exulting  hallelujah,  with  the  Lord 
unto  the  kingdom  of  God,  even  the  Father ;  and  alas  ! 
alas  !  they  whose  names  were  not  written  in  the  Lamb's 
book  of  life,  part  from  that  glorious  throng  forever; 
passing  mournfully  away  unto  their  destiny  of  darkness — 
then  shall  we  understand  another  and  an  awful  meaning 
in  the  words,  "  He  divideth  his  spoils."  "He  divideth 
his  sjjoils." 


EEDEMPTION. 


"  To  redeem  them  that  were  under  the  law." — Galatians,  iv.  5. 

These  words  in  their  connections,  set  forth  both  the 
design  and  result  of  our  Saviour's  incarnation  and  sacri- 
fice. Separate  from  the  context  they  exhibit  in  a  striking 
aspect  the  great  truth  of  human  redemption.  The  word 
"redeem"  had,  in  apostolic  times,  a  most  impressive 
meaning.  It  denoted  the  buying  back  from  captivity  a 
bondman  or  slave.  And,  therefore,  in  apostolic  rhetoric, 
man  by  nature  is  here  represented  as  a  being  confined  in 
a  strong  dungeon.  God's  law  is  spoken  of  as  a  fetter  or 
chain,  binding  a  condemned  spirit  unto  sure  and  speedy 
punishment.  And  Christ  Jesus  is  set  forth  as  a  gracious 
Saviour,  coming  with  both  price  and  power  to  ransom 
and  deliver.  These  two  parts  of  the  figure  should  be 
considered  in  order. 

First — Sere  is  the  Divine  laic  as  a  honclage  or  im- 
prisonment. A  principle,  or  power,  hemming  the  sinful 
soul  in  and  insuring  its  destruction.  And  this  simple, 
but  startling  thought  underlies,  as  a  foundation,  all  apos- 
tolic theology.  Of  the  immaculate  holiness  of  that 
Divine  law,  and  the  necessity  of  its  triumphant  vindi- 
cation, they  were  ever  thinking.  Of  this  we  think  too 
little,  or  think  only  practically  to  deny  it.  Why,  we 
ask,  should  an  immortal  creature  perish  for  violating  a 


REDEMPTION.  191 

Divine  precept  ?  Is  not  God  infinitely  good,  infinitely 
glorious ;  and  can  a  thought,  word,  deed,  of  a  poor  finite 
creature  either  injure  or  incense  him?  Surely  these 
Divine  threatenings  will  never  be  executed  !  This  law 
is  no  more  than  a  cloud-belt  round  about  the  creature, 
appealing  to  his  fears,  as  a  present  restraint,  but  pres- 
ently to  dissolve,  leaving  the  forgiven  spirit  all  bathed  in 
the  glorious  brightness  of  the  loving  kindness  of  God  ! 
Bat  alas  for  our  misconception !  Law — that  substantial 
and  sublime  thing.  Law,  a  cloud,  presently  to  vanish  ! 
Ah  me  !  it  is  any  thing  else  !  The  very  word  "  law  " 
means  something  fixed,  established,  immutable.  And 
as  everywhere  seen  in  the  Divine  government,  the  thing 
"  law "  is  the  most  permanent  and  immutable  of  all 
things. 

We  observe  this  in  regard  even  of  the  lowest  physical 

laws  of  the  universe.     Take  the  law  of  germination — 

the  transmission  of  vegetable  life  through  the  earthly 

flora — that  Divine  ordinance  at  creation  :   "  That  grass 

and  herb   and  tree  should  yield  seed  after  their   kind, 

whose  seed    is  in   itself  after  its   kind ;"    and    observe 

with  what  immutable  power  it   reigns  over  its  broad 

domain.     All  the  physical  changes   since  creation  have 

not  abated  jot  or  tittle  of  its  meaning.     The  oak  and 

the   cedar    are    now    in   form,  in  development,  yea,  in 

the  color  and  fibre  of  spray  and  leaf,  precisely  the  oak 

and  the  cedar  of  the  primal  Eden-woodlands.     And  the 

odors   we  breathe  in    spring-time    are   from    the    same 

flowers  that  made  fair  and    fragrant    the  garden  when 

the  first  man  walked  with  his  Maker.     And  upon  our 

thousand  hills  the  cattle  feed  upon  the  self-same  grasses 

that  fattened  the  living  creatures  to  which  Adam  gave 


192  REDEMPTION. 

names.  Around  every  seed  as  it  came  from  the  creative 
hand  Avas  bound  as  an  iron  fetter  that  thing  we  call 
"law."  And  if  we  find  a  solitary  one  that  has,  since 
the  time  of  the  Pharaohs,  lain  still  and  sere  in  a 
mummy's  Bhroud,  we  know  that,  if  placed  in  conditions 
of  growth,  it  will  yield  to  the  resistless  ordinance  and 
hurst  into  exactly  the  leaf  and  flower  that  made  the  old 
Nile  beautiful  four  thousand  years  agone.  All  the  men 
of  the  world,  with  all  their  power  and  skill  of  chemistry 
and  magic,  can  not  produce  a  rose  from  a  lily  seed,  nor 
a  pomegranate  from  a  fig-tree.  Nor  is  this  natural 
law  without  a  mighty  and  merciful  meaning.  On  its 
steadfastness  rests  the  hope  of  creation.  Let  the 
principle  of  specific  life,  shut  up  in  the  husk  of  a 
grass-seed,  escape  out  of  its  adamantine  prison-house, 
and  no  more  by  Divine  compulsion  produce  after 
its  kind — and  the  husbandman  stands  aghast  and 
despairing  in  his  labor,  for  he  may  find  to-morrow  his 
corn  ripening  into  tares,  and  the  fruit  of  his  pleasant 
orchards  bitter  and  deadly  as  the  clusters  of  Sodom. 
And  so  the  iron  law  that  closes  round  that  vegetable  life 
is  a  monition  of  Divine  love  rising  between  our  race  and 
despair  and  annihilation  ! 

Or  take  the  law  of  gravitation — that  mysterious  prin- 
ciple by  which  all  matter  attracts  and  is  attracted 
directly  as  the  mass,  and  inversely  as  the  square  of  the 
distance — and  observe  with  how  absolute  and  immu- 
table a  power  it  reigns  over  the  universe.  Brooding 
over  the  old  chaos,  the  Divine  Spirit  imparted  the 
power,  or  rather  promulgated  the  law,  to  remain  to 
the  end  of  time,  inviolable  and  universal;  and,  yielding 
to  its  influence,  that  old  chaos  was  radiantly  transfigured. 


REDEMPTION.  193 

The  nebular  five-mist  consolidated  and  rounded  into 
stars  and  systems  and  clusters,  and,  the  while,  every 
separate  world  grew  shapely  and  beautiful.  The  moun- 
tains rose  up  in  their  majesty,  and  the  waters  sparkled 
and  murmured,  and,  instead  of  the  old  waste,  emptiness, 
confusion,  there  appeared  fair  bright  homes  for  living 
and  joyous  creatures,  and  over  all  as  a  glorious  universe, 
"  the  morning  stars  sang  together,  and  all  the  Sons 
of  God  shouted  for  joy."  Nor  have  all  subsequent  ages 
weakened  in  one  jot  or  tittle  that  great  primal  ordi- 
nance. To-day  yonder  mountains  stand  on  their  founda- 
tions, and  the  old  sea  tosses  itself,  and  all  the  stars  of 
heaven  traverse  their  great  paths  under  the  resistless  rule 
of  this  mysterious  gravitation.  Every  particle  of  matter 
as  it  came  from  the  Creator's  hand  was  bound  by  it  as 
with  an  iron  fetter.  And  there  is  no  power,  nor  wisdom, 
nor  device  of  man  that  can  for  a  solitary  moment  free  the 
smallest  material  atom  from  that  grand  physical  law. 
Some  dew-drop  that  sparkled  in  some  flower's  fair  bell  in 
the  old  Paradise,  may  have  been  changed  into  a  thousand 
shapes,  and  passed  into  a  thousand  combinations.  It  fell 
perhaps  into  the  earth,  and  was  taken  up  by  vegetable 
absorbents,  and  became  part  of  a  mighty  tree.  Then,  as 
with  long  centuries,  the  living  organism  moldered,  it  may 
have  been  liberated,  and  gone  up  as  vapor  to  the  clouds, 
and  been  driven  away  by  winds,  and  dashed  about  the 
stormy  oceans,  and  for  a  thousand  years,  perhaps,  been 
frozen  in  the  heart  of  some  ice-field,  in  the  great  polar 
night.  Nevertheless,  if  you  bring  that  water-drop 
again  into  its  primal  conditions,  it  will  round  itself  and 
poise  itself  and  sparkle  precisely  as  in  the  first  hour 
when  it  bedewed  the  fair  flower  of  Paradise.  And 
9 


194  REDEMPTION. 

so  of  all  matter  that  makes  up  the  universe.  Never  has 
the  minutest  atom  failed  of  obedience  to  the  law  of  its 
being.  And  though  we  may  never  have  considered  the 
beneficence  of  this  unwavering  loyalty,  yet  upon  it  mani- 
festly depend  all  the  order  and  beauty  and  life  of  the  uni- 
verse. For,  let  it  be  seen  and  understood  that  the  tiniest 
mote  in  the  sunbeam  has  broken  that  fetter  and  escaped 
out  of  that  prison-house ;  let  the  wind  shake  a  single  dew- 
drop  from  a  flower,  and  that  drop  not  fall  to  the  earth, 
but  float  away  in  thin  air  unsupported;  and  what  then? 
Alas,  then,  a  palpable  suspension,  or  destruction,  of  the 
great  law  of  gravitation  !  And  then  the  rivers  will  cease 
to  murmur,  and  the  mountains  will  shake  on  their  deep 
foundations,  and  the  roused  ocean  burst  its  chain  and  its 
prison-house,  and  rush  in  a  devouring  flood  over  earth's 
islands  and  continents,  and  the  stars  of  heaven  will 
dash  wildly  from  their  courses,  and  all  the  lights  of  the 
universe  go  out  in  great  darkness,  and  all  created  life 
perish  forever  ! 

And  so  again  that  iron  law,  that  binds  this  dead 
matter  as  an  omnipotent  fetter,  rises  as  an  adamantine 
bulwark  between  a  living  universe  and  the  awful  gulf 
of  despair  and  annihilation.  So  that,  however  unimport- 
ant it  may  at  first  seem,  whether  a  rain-drop  falls  to  the 
earth,  or  floats  unsupported  in  air;  yet,  upon  reflection, 
the  issues  involved  seem  momentous,  and  you  lift  heart 
and  voice  in  thanksgiving,  that  even  all  the  material 
things  God  hath  created  are  inexorably  under  law  ! 

And  from  this  principle  in  the  natural,  how  plain  the 
a  fortiori  argument  for  the  supremacy  and  vindication  of 
those  laws  which  make  up  God's  moral  administration. 
A  sin  committed  and  not  punished  would  be,  in  that 


REDEMPTION.  195 

regard,  just  what  the  imporiderous  rain-drop  or  the 
growth  of  tares  from  seed-corn  would  be  in  a  natural 
world — a  demonstration  of  the  mutable  and  unrighteous 
character,  both  of  the  universal  laws  and  their  Omnipotent 
Lawgiver.  One  evil  act,  or  word,  or  thought,  pei*- 
mitted  unpunished ;  and  then  all  such  iniquities  would 
have  Divine  license  and  sanction.  Sin,  the  great  de- 
stroyer, would  spread  as  a  deadly  pestilence  throughout 
all  worlds.  The  mighty  spirits  of  evil  would  cast  off  every 
chain  and  escape  all  imprisonment,  free  to  work  their 
abominations  amid  all  those  bright  worlds  which  con- 
stitute the  many  mansions  in  the  House  of  our  Great 
Father — and  those  white  robes  would  be  exchanged  for 
sackcloth,  and  those  hallelujahs  for  blasphemies.  Wild 
anarchy  would  take  the  place  of  God's  beneficent  sov 
ereignty,  and  every  bright  angel  become  a  devil,  and 
every  fair  world  a  hell ! 

Yes,  my  hearers,  law  is  no  insignificant  thing,  to  be 
broken  with  impunity.  It  is  an  immutable,  adamantine, 
omnipotent  ordinance,  set  to  guard  all  great  and  uni- 
versal interests — lifting  itself  as  an  impassable  barrier 
between  the  domains  of  sin  and  holiness,  disloyalty  and 
love.  And  therefore,  go  long  as  Jehovah  reigns,  is  never 
to  be  relaxed  in  one  tittle  of  its  righteous  requirements, 
or  defrauded  of  its  full  and  triumphant  vindication. 

All  things  made  by  God,  from  the  atom  in  the  air  to 
the  glorious  archangel,  were  placed,  at  the  first,  and  will 
remain  to  the  end,  inexorably  "  under  law."  And 
therefore  the  apostle,  in  the  strong  metaphor  of  the  text, 
represents  the  condition  of  an  ungodly  man,  as  one 
around  whom  this  immutable  and  everlasting  law  is 
bound  as  an  iron  fetter,  and  built  as   an   adamantine 


196  REDEMPTION. 

prison-house,  from  which  he  can  not  escape,  unless  by 
some  Divine  and  Omnipotent  deliverance. 

"  Under 'law /"  "  under  lawP*  Verily  language  hath  no 
more  startling  image  than  this!  For  "law"  is  seen 
here  to  be  only  a  manifestation ;  only  another  form  of 
that  Omnipotence  that  holds  the  universe  in  equipoise. 
And  if  in  one  jot  or  tittle  its  requirements  have  been 
violated,  then  all  that  Omnipotence  is  pledged,  yea,  is 
already  at  work  in  its  vindication.  And  the  heart  re- 
coils at  the  thought  of  a  finite  violater  thus  "under 
the  laic.'''' 

And  this  brings  us  to  consider  the  other  part  of  this 
apostolic  figure,  wherein  unto  the  soul  thus  hopelessly 
imprisoned,  Christ  Jesus  is  represented  as  a  deliverer, 
coming  both  with  price  and  power  to  work  out  salva- 
tion— "  to  redeem  ! — to  redeem  them  that  were  under  the 
law?'' 

And  the  figure  illustrates  strikingly  the  meaning  of 
redemption.  It  is  something  more  than  deliverance. 
Our  Saviour  is  not  represented  as  coming  in  arbitrary 
omnipotence  to  open  the  prison-door  and  preach  liberty 
to  the  captive.  For  this  were  an  abrogation  of  law,  and 
not  its  vindication.  But  he  comes  to  redeem  men. 
The  word  is  "  redemption  " — i.  e.,  a  buying  back — not  a 
wresting  by  power,  but  a  release  by  purchase.  It  is  not 
the  advent  of  an  armed  champion  to  lift  up  his  challenge 
at  the  prison-door,  and  carry  the  stronghold  by  assault ; 
but  the  advent  of  a  Mediator,  t*o  satisfy  every  claim,  and 
fulfill  every  condition  of  the  law  which  is  violated,  exten- 
uating nothing  of  the  captive's  guilt — disputing  none  of 
the  law's  demands — prepared  to  meet  those  demands  in 
every  jot  and  tittle,  so  that  if  it  were  possible  to  dis- 


REDEMPTION.  197 

tinguish  between  the  Divine  attributes,  it  would  be  rather 
the  justice  of  God  than  liis  merry,  which  loosens  the 
fetter  and  unbars  the  dungeon. 

"Redemption!"  "Redemption  /"  This  is  the  word! 
Such  a  vindication  of  the  law  in  the  face  of  the  universe 
as  strengthens  the  universal  faith  in  its  steadfastness  ! 
Mediation!  Substitution!  This  is  the  mighty  truth! 
Xot  a  breaking  of  the  law,  but  a  fufillurc;  it  in  behalf  of 
ns  !  Making  manifest  its  tremendous  power  even  in  the 
very  act  of  deliverance — as  in  a  beneficent  rescue  from 
some  great  natural  law.  Take  the  law  of  gravitation. 
Imagine  a  child,  abroad  on  a  holiday  in  some  Alpine  val- 
ley, joyously  watching  summer-birds,  or  gathering  wild 
flowers ;  when  suddenly,  far  above,  some  elemental 
agency  loosens  the  avalanche,  and  downward  in  awful 
momentum,  it  rushes  toward  the  imperiled  child!  Now, 
suppose  that  infant  could  stand  up  in  the  path  of  that  de- 
stroyer, and,  putting  forth  its  feeble  hand,  stop  it,  and 
roll  it  backward  !  Then,  though  the  fond  mother  would 
exult  in  the  deliverance,  yet  all  human  faith  would  be 
shaken  in  the  steadfastness  of  the  great  law,  and  this 
world,  and  all  worlds,  be  flung  back  into  chaos.  But 
instead  of  this,  suppose,  at  the  first  sound  of  that  de- 
scending destruction,  the  father,  thoughtful  of  his  child, 
had  sprung  to  the  rescue — bounding  from  rock  to  rock, 
reckless  of  precipices  and  chasms— reaching  the  imperil- 
ed not  a  moment  too  soon,  snatching  it  from  the  very 
jaws  of  death,  and  springing  backward,  bleeding,  breath- 
less, into  the  shelter  of  some  adamantine  cavern,  had 
come  forth  when  the  mighty  terror  had  gone  by,  bearing 
the  beloved  and  saved  one — then  the  cry  of  gladness  fill- 
ing all  that  stormy  air,  would  be  no  more  in  praise  of 


198  REDEMPTION. 

human  love  than  of  the  might  and  majesty  of  that  glori- 
ous thing — law  ! 

And  thus  is  it  in  salvation.  The  claim  of  God's  holy- 
law  is  in  no  sense  set  aside  or  weakened  !  Christ  Jesus, 
for  us,  bears  all  its  penalty — fulfills  all  its  requirements. 
And  the  universe  beholds  the  amazing  fact  of  substitu- 
tion, assured  that  the  righteousness  of  God  is  absolute 
and  immutable,  and  exults  that,  even  in  the  deliverance 
of  the  sinner,  the  law  is  magnified  in  the  punishment  of 
sin. 

"  Redemption  /"  "  Redemption  !"  This  is  the  over- 
whelming thought!  We  were  "under  the  law" — "sold 
under  sin  " — conquered  and  carried  away  captive  !  Bound 
in  iron  fetters  !  Cast  into  adamantine  dungeons !  Around 
us,  as  bulwarks  which  no  finite  power  could  shake  or  scale, 
rose  the  infinite  attributes  of  God,  hemming  us  in  unto 
destruction.  And  when  the  Infinite  Deliverer  came,  it  was 
not  with  almighty  power  to  rock  the  dungeon  into  ruins, 
but  it  was  in  omnipotent  and  self-sacrificing  love,  to  ran- 
som us,  as  a  monarch  might  ransom  a  beloved  child,  with 
the  full  price  of  his  kingdom. 

"He  was  wounded  for  our  transgressions.''''  "He  was 
bruised  for  our  iniquities.''''  "  He  bore  the  sins  of  tnany?'' 
"  The  Lord  laid  on  him  the  iniquity  of 'us  alV  "  We  are 
redeemed/  redeemed,  not  loitJi  corruptible  things,  as  silver 
and  gold,  but  with  the  precious  blood  of  Christ."  And 
looking  on  the  immensity  of  that  Divine  offering,  In- 
finite Justice  said  "  It  is  enough."  And  the  iron  fet- 
ters were  loosed,  and  the  gates  opened,  and  we  walked 
forth  redeemed  ones ;  and  that  tremendous  thing — 
Law — stood,  not  defrauded,  not  dishonored,  but  vindi- 
cated !     And   the   universe  exulted  not  more  that  man 


REDEMPTION.  199 

was  saved,  than  that  God  was  glorified  in  his  salvation. 
And  there  was  a  new  song  heard  in  heaven,  more  trans- 
porting in  its  splendor  and  power  than  all  its  old  choral 
symphonies — a  song  of  praise  "unto  him  that  teas  slain, 
that  he  might  redeem  with  his  blood y"  and  on  earth,  in- 
stead of  the  anguish  of  despair,  there  was  the  rapture  of 
deliverance,  when  in  the  fullness  of  time  God  sent  forth 
his  Son,  not  to  destroy  the  law,  but,  by  fulfilling  it,  glo- 
riously "to  redeem  them  that  xoere  under  the  law.'''' 

These,  then,  are  the  two  truths  which  the  text's  meta- 
jmor  illustrates:  The  law  an  imprisonment !  Christ  Jesus 
a  Itedeemer! 

Yet  each  should  receive  at  our  hands  its  just  personal 
application:  1.  If  we  are  impenitent  and  unj^ardoned  men, 
let  us  at  least  consider  seriously  our  true  estate  of  dark 
and  unsheltered  condemnation.  "You  are  under  the 
law !"  and  as  the  most  necessary  and  certain  of  all  things, 
that  law  must  be  vindicated.  If  you  will  not  accept  of 
redemption  as  offered  in  Christ,  yours  is  no  part  in  salva- 
tion. For  if  God  should  conform  to  the  popular  theology, 
saving  sinful  man  otherwise,  it  would  be  not  according 
to  law,  but  against  law!  Now  law  is  the  very  life,  yea, 
the  very  substance  of  the  universe.  Remitted  or  relaxed, 
it  goes  back  to  chaos.  And  so  it  stands  as  an  adamantine 
bulwark  around  all  spheres  and  forms  and  processes  of 
life!  And  never  since  creation  has  an  iota  of  its  require- 
ments been  remitted ;  and  there  is  not  a  mote  floating  in 
the  sunshine,  nor  a  dew-drop  sparkling  in  a  flower's  cup, 
that  hath  not,  through  all  earth's  long  years,  carefully  as 
if  all  creation's  interests  hinged  on  its  obedience,  been 
omnipotently,  divinely  hemmed  in — "  under  law." 

And  surely,  then,  that  moral  law  which  condemns  the 


200  REDEMPTION. 

ungodly,  guarding  as  it  does  all  the  spiritual  interests  of 
all  creatures,  shall  not  fail  in  one  jot  or  tittle,  till  all  be 
fulfilled  !    And  so  we  warn  you  of  your  terrible  condition ! 

Law — Laic.  What  a  fearful  thing  it  is  in  its  aspects 
toward  transgression!  Even  human  law,  weak,  uncer- 
tain, mutable,  imperfect — yet  how  its  violator  recoils,  if 
it  hem  him  in  to  destruction  !  See  yonder !  through  the 
dark  night  hurries  a  trembling  fugitive!  That  man's 
hands  are  stained  with  blood.  In  silence  and  solitude, 
with  no  human  eye  to  see,  he  struck  the  fatal  blow,  and 
now  on  swift  foot  turns  from  the  face  of  the  dead  man ! 
But,  alas  for  him,  the  avenger  of  blood  is  on  his  track! 
Laio!  Law!  that  inexorable  power  of  retribution — with 
an  eye  that  gathers  evidence  from  a  footprint  in  earth, 
or  a  stain  in  water,  or  a  whisper  in  air — is  following  his 
footsteps,  and  will  find  him  and  lay  a  mighty  hand  on 
him,  and  bind  him  in  iron  fetters  which  no  power  can 
break,  and  consign  him  to  dungeons  whence  no  skill  can 
deliver. 

And  if  human  law  is  terrible,  what  think  ye  of  Divine 
law  ?  God's  natural  laws  are  fearful !  You  see  a  fair 
child  gathering  flowers  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice ;  sing- 
ing its  glad  songs  and  weaving  its  dewy  garlands,  it 
approaches  the  dizzy  verge  !  Far  out,  in  a  cleft  of  a  rock, 
grows  a  tempting  violet;  the  child  sees  it,  longs  for  it — 
reaches  for  it — reaches  too  far!  See,  its  little  feet  slip! 
and  you  shudder,  recoil,  cry  out  with  terror!  Why?  Is 
not  God  merciful?  Are  not  God's  providences  gracious? 
Yes,  indeed;  but  even  God's  merciful  providences  are 
according  to  immutable  ordinances.  That  child  is  una\  r 
law.  The  law,  that  holds  the  universe  together,  and  is 
as  inexorable  as  its  Maker,  hems  it  in,  and  presses  on  it, 


REDEMPTION.  201 

and  will  dash  it  to  destruction.  And  do  you  think 
God's  moral  laws  are  narrower  in  their  play,  or 
■weaker  in  their  pressure?  O,  ungodly  man  !  be  alarmed 
for  yourself!  You  are  pursuing  your  chosen  courses 
under  law — " -under  law!"  You  are  gathering  flowers 
of  sin  upon  precipices,  and  below  are  unfathomed  depths 
of  indignation  and  anguish ;  and  the  moral  law  that 
binds  into  one  rejoicing  universe  all  sinless  ranks  of  life, 
is  over  you,  and  around  you,  and  pressing  you  down  to 
destruction,  and  at  the  next  footstep  your  feet  may  slide, 
and  there  be  none  to  deliver!  Oh,  the  overwhelming 
thought !  Beings  passing  to  immortality  under  law — 
"under  law." 

2.  Meantime,  unto  the  believing  and  penitent  soul  the 
text  is  full  of  consolation.  We  icere  under  the  laio,  but 
Christ  hath  redeemed  us!  Redeemed!  Redeemed!  Oh, 
what  a  word  it  is !  Saved !  Saved !  How  the  very 
thought  thrills  us  !  A  child  saved  from  a  burning 
house !  From  foundation  to  roof  swept  the  red  surges 
hemming  him  in  unto  destruction !  But  right  through 
the  encircling  fire  rushed  a  strong  deliverer,  reckless  of 
danger,  to  restore  it  in  joyous  life  to  the  mother's  loving 
heart !  Saved  !  Saved  !  A  man  overboard,  in  a  night 
of  storm,  lifting  one  despairing  cry  upon  the  rushing 
wind,  and  sinking,  in  despairing  anguish,  in  the  devour- 
ing sea !  But,  behold !  a  life-boat  lowered,  manned, 
darting  like  a  sea-bird  through  the  blinding  spray,  and 
strong  arms  outstretched  to  snatch  the  victim  from  the 
very  jaws  of  death!  Saved!  saved!  saved!  Oh,  what 
a  word  it  is  !  And  yet  thus,  O  children  of  God,  are  you 
saved  from  the  unfathomed  ocean  and  the  unquenchable 

fire  !     Saved,  saved   forever !     Oh,  what   gratitude  be- 
9* 


202  REDEMPTION. 

comes  us !  "What  consecration !  What  deep,  adoring 
love !  We  lay  in  that  awful  dungeon !  there  was  no  bright- 
ening ray ;  no  whispering  voice  in  the  thick  darkness ;  the 
cankering  iron  ate  into  the  shrinking  flesh;  the  adaman- 
tine bulwarks  shut  us  in  unto  despairing  anguish.  Law 
— Law !  God's  great,  righteous,  inexorable,  condemning 
law  overshadowed  us,  closed  round  us,  pressed  upon  us. 
"  We  were  under  the  law." 

But  Ave  are  saved  !  "  Redeemed  !"  Bought  back  !  A 
glorious  light  flashed  through  the  prison-house !  The 
heavy  chains  fell  off  !  The  awful  portals  opened !  And 
wherefore?  Whence  the  marvel  of  this  great  deliver- 
ance ?  Behold  !  Behold  !  A  glorious  Form  stands  with- 
out !  In  his  hands  a  precious  ransom — all  the  riches, 
all  the  raptures,  all  the  glories  that  were  his  with 
the  Father,  before  the  world  was,  lavished  on  our  re- 
demption. "  He  that  was  so  rich,  now  so  poor,  that 
through,  his  poverty  we  might  be  rich.''''  See !  where  the 
eternal  diadem  glittered,  there  is  a  crown  of  thorns  !  See, 
the  hand  that  made  the  world  and  wielded  heaven's 
sceptre,  bleeds  with  the  piercing  nail !  He — he — hath 
redeemed  us  by  his  blood — his  own  precious  blood !  Oh, 
this  picture,  this  overwhelming  picture !  An  eternal  dun- 
geon and  a  Divine  Redeemer  !  Oh,  weep,  these  eyes  of 
mine!  Break,  break  this  cold  heart !  Send  heavenward 
your  exulting  hallelujahs,  O  dumb  lips!  Rise,  expand, 
exult,  soar,  triumph,  O  ransomed  spirit!  "For  Christ 
hath  redeemed  them  that  were  under  the  law/" 


THE    CHILD-TEACHER. 


"  At  the  same  time  came  the  disciples  unto  Jesus,  saying,  Who  is  the 
greatest  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ? 

"  And  Jjsus  call'd  a  Utile  child  unto  him,  and  set  him  in  the  midst  of 
them, 

"And  sail,  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  Except  ye  be  converted,  and  become 
as  little  children,  ye  shall  not  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven." — Mat- 
THE\y,  xviii.  1,  2,  3. 

This  passage  illustrates  the  beautiful  simplicity  of  our 
Saviour's  teaching.  It  could  have  occurred  in  no  history 
but  his  own.  No  prophet,  no  apostle,  no  inspired  man, 
no  uninspired  preacher,  would  so  have  answered  the 
great  question  propounded  by  the  disciples. 

Whatever  be  our  notion  of  what  is  here  meant  by 
"  the  kingdom  of  heaven,"  whether  Christ's  temj3oral 
reign  on  the  earth,  or  the  Gospel  dispensation,  or  the 
true  glories  of  the  eternal  world,  had  the  question  been 
put  to  another,  the  answer  would  have  involved  the 
metaphysics  of  a  regenerated  nature.  A  modern  preacher 
certainly  would  have  sought  out  what  seemed  to  him 
the  loftier  excellencies  of  apostles  and  apostolic  men — 
Peter's  boldness,  and  John's  love,  and  Paul's  ardor — 
the  confessor's  steadfastness,  and  the  martyr's  daring — 
saying,  these  are  the  elements  of  true  Christian  greatness. 
He  would  have  summoned,  in  imagination,  from  eternity 


204  TEE    CEILD-TEACEER. 

the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect;  and  as  in  vision 
they  moved  before  the  eye — Abraham  and  Moses,  and 
Elijah  and  Daniel — lie  would  have  pointed  to  the  glorious 
procession,  and  cried  :  "  Behold  !  such  are  the  great  ones 
in  the  kingdom  of  God." 

But  not  so  Jesus.  The  disciples  asked  him  the  ques- 
tion, and  instead,  as  we  should  have  expected,  of  recall- 
ing to  their  minds  Moses  and  Elias,  who,  in  the  Mount 
of  Transfiguration,  had  just  passed  before  them  as  great 
chieftains  of  Immortality,  he  looked  around  upon  his 
audience,  and  seeing  a  little  child,  lifted  it  gently  in  his 
arms,  and  said  to  the  amazed  disciples:  "Behold!  such 
are  the  great  ones  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

Now,  it  is  this  simple  act  of  the  great  Teacher  we 
would  at  present  consider.  We  would  let  a  little  child 
teach  you  about  the  kingdom  of  God.  Of  course,  we 
would  not  be  misunderstood  to  intimate  that  a  little 
child,  if  unregenerated,  is  in  any  sense  fitted  for  that 
kingdom.  "We  do  indeed  believe  that  all  who  die  in 
infancy  are  at  once  translated  to  heaven.  And  yet  this 
we  are  assured  is  a  result  of  Divine  grace  through  the 
Son's  sacrifice  and  the  Spirit's  sanctification ;  because 
the  great  Shepherd  came  traveling  in  the  greatness  of 
his  strength  to  bear  the  tender  lambs  in  his  arms  from 
life's  wilderness  into  green  pastures  and  beside  still 
waters. 

Though  there  be  unquestionably  a  religious  training 
for  children,  so  that,  instead  of  being  left  to  grow  up  in 
wickedness,  with  the  hope  that  by  and  by  God  will  re- 
generate them,  children  ought  from  their  birth  to  be 
brought  up  "  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord ;" 
nevertheless,  train  them  as  you  will,  without  the  miracle 


THE    CHILD- TEA  CHER.  205 

of  converting  grace,  just  because  they  are  born  with  a 
sinful  nature,  they  will  always  and  inevitably  grow  up 
sinners. 

Therefore,  in  what  may  be  said  hereafter,  we  shall  not 
be  understood  as  intimating  that  a  child  unconverted  is 
either  a  great  or  a  little  one  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 
We  are  only  using  such  a  child  after  the  example  of  our 
Divine  Master,  as  illustrating,  in  its  natural  exercises 
and  emotions,  the  graces  of  such  as  are  literally  "  great 
in  the  kingdom  of  God."  Let  us  then  select  a  few  prom- 
inent Christian  excellencies  and  illustrate  their  nature 
and  power  by  the  analogical  emotions  so  manifest  in 
childhood. 

First.  Let  us  begin  with  Faith — the  grand  foundation 
of  all  Christian  character.  And  whether  you  regard 
saving  or  speculative  faith,  let  a  little  child  illusti'ate  the 
true  nature  and  excellence  of  the  principle. 

1st.  Begin  with  speculative  or  intellectual  faith,  and 
what  is  it  as  manifested  in  a  child  ?  Why,  simply,  a 
firm  reliance  on  parental  testimony.  Let  a  father  tell  a 
child  that  there  is  a  God,  and  spite  of  a  thousand  learned 
infidels,  he  will  believe  it.  Let  a  mother  declare  that 
there  is  a  heaven,  and  the  child  never  questions  it.  Let 
a  father  teach  that  the  earth  is  round,  and  the  child 
believes,  though  he  can  not  comprehend  it.  Let  the 
mother  say  that  the  sun  only  seems  to  move,  while  it 
really  stands  still,  and  the  child  accepts  the  truth,  though 
it  contradict  his  senses.  Feeling  assured  of  parental 
knowledge  and  veracity,  and  conscious  of  his  own  ignor- 
ance, he  holds  his  judgment  in  abeyance  to  that  higher 
wisdom.  This,  we  say,  is  speculative,  or  doctrinal,  faith 
in  a  child — Believing  what  a  father  says  just  because  he 


206  THE    GEILD-TEAGEER. 

~ays  it.  And  such,  as  a  Christian  grace,  is  that  doctrinal 
faith  which  makes  a  man  great  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

A  Christian  is  God's  little  child,  and  the  Bible  is  the 
word  of  his  heavenly  Father.  And  if  he  have  great 
faith,  he  believes  to  the  full  all  it  reveals  to  him.  lie 
must  indeed  assure  himself  that  it  is  a  revelation.  God 
asks  no  man — yea,  allows  no  man — to  accept  as  a  revela- 
tion any  thing  without  evidence.  He  commands  us  even 
"to  try  the  spirits."  And  if  a  seeming  archangel  should 
bring  me  a  letter,  apparently  from  heaven,  still,  before  I 
receive  it,  I  must  demand  proof  that  it  is  a  true  angel 
and  a  veritable  revelation. 

But  once  satisfied  that  the  Bible  is  God's  "Word,  a 
Christian  has  nothing  more  to  do  than  to  understand 
and  believe  it.  He  may  not  be  able  to  comprehend  its 
truths,  either  separate  or  in  combination,  yet  he  will 
believe  them  all  unhesitatingly  on  the  Divine  assurance ; 
just  as  a  child  believes,  on  his  father's  word,  that  the  earth 
is  a  globe,  though,  for  his  life,  he  can  not  understand  Avhy 
the  men  and  the  cities  do  not  fall  off  at  the  antipodes. 

Such  is  the  essence  and  exhibition  of  a  child's  specula- 
tive faith.  Let  us  learn  the  great  lesson !  Let  this  little 
child  preach  to  all  men  about  the  kingdom  of  heaven ! 
Would  that  we  could  gather  together  all  the  proud  and 
philosophic  champions  of  the  Church's  theologic  antago- 
nisms— men  that  set  up  their  own  judgments  as  the  meas- 
ure of  their  faith,  determined  to  believe  no  truth  in  itself 
and  no  system  of  truth  in  its  connections  which  they  can 
not  understand  ;  doubtful  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity, 
and  the  Incarnation,  and  the  Resurrection,  because  they 
can  not  comprehend  them ;  or  going  about  to  modify 
Scripture   antagonisms;    the   doctrine  of  Divine  sover- 


TEE    GEILD-TEACEER.  207 

eignty,  on  the  one  hand,  lest  it  should  infringe  man's 
free  agency  ;  or,  on  the  other,  the  doctrine  of  free  agency, 
lest  it  should  limit  Divine  sovereignty ;  magnifying  jus- 
tification by  faith,  on  the  one  hand,  till  there  be  no  room 
for  good  works  ;  or,  on  the  other,  good  works,  till  simple 
faith  without  works  seem  a  fanaticism.  Men,  in  short, 
thus  virtually  putting  God's  glorious  Word  to  the  tor- 
ture, that  its  utterances  may  be  forced  to  square  with 
their  carnal  philosophies  ;  Avhose  theological  position  is 
rather  that  of  Rabbis  teaching  Christ,  than  of  disciples 
sitting  at  his  feet  and  receiving  his  words  trustfully. 
Would,  I  say,  I  could  gather  all  such  men  into  one 
great  assembly  and  let  this  little  child  preach  to  them 
about  this  true  Christian  faith !  Ah  !  how  that  young 
lip  would  be  curled  in  holy  scorn,  and  that  hand  be 
clinched  in  holy  wrath,  as  he  cried :  "  Shame,  shame 
upon  you,  you  grown-up  children  of  the  Omniscient  Je- 
hovah, thus  wanting  implicit  faith  in  the  Divine  oracles ! 
Why,  I  believe  my  mortal  father,  whether  I  understand 
all  his  words  or  not,  yet  I  fully  believe  him,  and  can  not 
you  believe  your  great  and  glorious  and  eternal  Father  ?" 
Such  is  a  child's  faith.  And  just  this  unquestioning, 
rejoicing  belief  in  our  heavenly  Father's  oracles  is  the 
faith  that  makes  a  man  a  chief  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

2d.  Or  take  saving  faith — that  gracious  exercise  in 
which  the  soul  rests  solely  and  entirely  on  Christ  for 
salvation ;  and  let  a  little  child  illustrate  it. 

Now,  you  are  all  awai'e  how  many  sermons  have  been 
preached  and  volumes  written  on  this  subject  of  justify- 
ing faith.  How  much  learned  disputation  has  gone  on 
in  the  Church  about  the  philosophy  of  the  Atonement, 
whereon  such  faith  rests,  and  what  ponderous  tomes  of 


208  TTIE    CHILD-TEACII ER. 

metaphysics  have  been  written  concerning  the  various 
mental  exercises  which  make  up  this  grand  composite  of 
faith.  And  yet,  so  truly  has  all  this  proved  only  a  dark- 
ening of  counsel  by  words  without  knowledge,  that  when 
the  awakened  soul,  conscious  of  its  need  of  a  great  Sa- 
viour, comes  to  these  Rabbis  of  theology,  asking  ear- 
nestly :  "  What  it  is  to  believe  unto  salvation  ?"  It  re- 
ceives responses  so  Delphian  in  ambitious  metaphysics, 
that  it  turns  away  in  despair  of  apprehending  the  simple 
nature  of  faith. 

But  come  away,  O  desponding  soul !  to  the  child- 
preacher.  Behold,  a  fire  has  broken  out  in  a  street  of 
your  city !  A  house  is  enveloped  in  flames ;  and  see,  a 
little  boy,  forgotten  for  a  moment  in  the  confusion  of 
escape,  stands  at  the  lofty  casement  imploring  aid. 
And  now,  through  the  excited  crowd  rushes  the  tender 
father,  he  cries  : — "  My  child,  do  not  be  afraid  !  I  have 
come  to  save  you ;  let  yourself  down  from  the  casement, 
and  then  drop  without  fear  into  my  arms." 

And  now  what  does  this  boy  do?  Does  he  pause 
with  idle  questionings  about  the  nature  of  fire  in  general, 
or  the  origin  of  this  fire  in  particular,  or  the  reason  why 
his  father  would  save  him  in  this  way,  or  indeed  with 
any  foolish  questions  at  all  ?  Oh,  no  ;  the  boy  does  one 
thing  only.  lie  obeys  simply  his  father.  He  drops  into 
those  outstretched  arms,  and  the  next  moment  is  safe  on 
the  paternal  bosom.  This  is  saving  faith  in  a  child ;  and 
like  it,  is  the  faith  that  justifies  the  believer.  To  the 
wrath-environed  soul,  around  which  the  eternal  flames 
are  already  kindling,  comes  the  gracious  Redeemer,  and 
he  cries :  "  O,  helpless  immortal !  I  have  come  to  save 
you,  to  satisfy  Divine  justice,  to  cleanse  you  from  sin,  to 


THE    CniLD-TEACIIER.  209 

bear  you  safely  to  glory;  but  from  all  your  struggling 
self-righteousness  you  must  east  yourself  at  once  and 
entirely  upon  me  for  salvation.  Drop  from  all  other 
dependence  into  my  outstretched  arms."  And  with  this 
direction,  so  simple  that  a  child  comprehends  it,  the 
poor  soul  goes  about  with  its  anxious  questionings, 
about  the  metaphysics  of  belief  and  the  philosophy  of 
the  atonement — analyzing  the  water  of  life,  when  it 
ought  to  be  drinking  it ;  speculating  about  the  make 
of  the  manna,  when  it  ought  to  be  eating  it ! 

Alas,  poor  foolish  soul !  what  can  you  know  about  the 
atonement  more  than  this — that  by  it,  in  some  way,  God 
is  reconciled  to  the  sinner  ?  What  need  you  more  than 
God's  simple  assurance,  that  by  it  he  is  satisfied  ?  Oh, 
away  from  these  metaphysical  masters  in  Israel,  to  the 
feet  of  the  child-preacher  !  Hark  !  he  cries :  "  Ye  per- 
ishing immortals,  drop  into  your  Saviour's  loving  and 
almighty  arms,  and  be  saved  as  I  was  saved  by  my 
weaker  father !"  Such  is  a  child's  saving  faith — and 
such  is  the  justifying  belief  that  makes  a  Christian  great 
in  the  kingdom  of  God. 

Secondly.  Take  Repextaxce,  as  the  next  Christian 
grace,  for  a  like  illustration.  And  here,  as  before,  you 
all  know  what  volumes  have  been  written  and  uttered 
about  the  true  godly  sorrow  which  God  demands  of  the 
sinner.  "Repent,  repent !"  says  the  preacher ;  "repent, 
or  you  will  all  surely  perish  !"  "  But  tell  me,  oh,  tell 
me,"  responds  the  convicted  soul,  "what  true  repentance 
is !  Practically  and  simply,  what  can  I  do  ? — what 
must  I  do  ?"  And  in  answer,  we  hear  so  much  about 
various  elements  and  exercises — apprehensions  of  the 
righteousness  of  the  law  that  condemns,  and  approvals 


210  TEE    GEILD-TEACEER. 

of  the  Divine  justice  that  destroys — so  much,  in  short, 
ahout  the  metaphysical  simples  that  make  tip  the  spirit- 
ual composite  of  repentance,  that  the  poor,  trembling, 
self-condemned  soul,  instead  of  looking  trustfully  up- 
ward into  the  face  of  the  loving  and  forgiving 
Father,  is  ever  looking,  in  doubt  and  despondency, 
inward,  upon  its  subjective  frames  and  feelings,  to 
ascertain  if  haply  it  have  enough  of  some  mysterious 
emotions  to  justify  it  in  taking  God  at  his  word,  at 
once  and  rejoicingly — till,  indeed,  the  very  word  "  Re- 
penV — so  simple  in  its  significance,  that  a  child  under- 
stands it — seems  rather  a  Delphian  enigma  for  our 
logic,  than  a  Divine  entreaty  for  our  love. 

But  come  away  to  this  child-teacher,  O  troubled 
spirit !  See  that  little  girl !  She  has  disobeyed  her 
mother,  and  expects  to  be  punished,  and  feels  that  she 
deserves  it.  But  it  is  not  the  chastisement  that  troubles 
her.  She  is  thinking  of  that  mother's  soiTOwful  heart 
and  tearful  eye !  That  kind,  gentle,  loving  mother — 
she  has  grieved  her,  and  her  own  heart  breaks  at  the 
thought!  But  now  what  does  she?  Does  she  wait  till 
she  has  made  herself  better — till  she  feels  more  deeply 
her  wickedness- — till  by  some  earnest  ohedience  she 
softens  parental  indignation?  Oh,  no!  She  comes  just 
as  she  is,  to  her  mother's  feet ;  she  casts  herself  into  those 
outstretched  arms ;  she  lays  her  aching  head  on  that 
loving  bosom,  and  looks  up  through  raining  tears  into 
that  beloved  face,  and  cries :  "  Oh,  mother,  I  have  been 
very  wicked  ! — I  am  very  sorry  !  Dear  mother,  forgive 
me ;  forgive  me,  and  I  will  do  so  no  more !" 

And  just  this  is  repentance,  O  troubled  soul !  to  come 
just  as  you  are — waiting  for  nothing,  inquiring  about 


THE     CHILD-TEACHER.  211 

nothing — from  your  sins  and  your  shortcomings  to  your 
heavenly  Father;  looking  up  tearfully  into  his  face,  and 
crying:  "Father,  I  have  sinned — I  am  heartbroken; 
punish  me  if  it  please  thee,  but  forgive — oh,  forgive  !" 
This  is  repentance  in  the  heart  of  a  little  child — and  the 
repentance  as  well  which  makes  the  Christian  a  great 
one  in  the  kingdom  of  God. 

Thirdly.  Take  the  grace  of  Love  for  the  child's  illus- 
tration— a  grace  which,  in  its  full  development,  is  the 
well-rounded  composite  of  all  Christian  excellencies — and 
let  a  little  child  exhibit  its  essence  and  exercise. 

1st.  Take  love  to  God,  as  the  great  law  of  life.  And 
here  as  before,  you  all  know  how  ambitiously  men  have 
sought  out  and  classified  the  various  evidences  of  such 
love  in  a  believer's  experience.  And  as  we  have  come 
to  our  spiritual  teachers  for  assistance  on  this  great 
point  of  self-examination,  we  have  heard  so  much  about 
the  distinctions  between  the  selfish  and  the  unselfish 
affections — so  much  about  the  spirituality  of  the  Di- 
vine nature,  and  the  necessity  of  sinking  all  thought 
of  self-interest  in  an  overpowering  concern  for  the  Divine 
glory — so  much,  in  a  word,  about  the  elements  of  crys- 
tallization making  up  this  crown-gem  of  a  Christian 
character — that  Ave  have  retired  from  the  pulpit,  or 
risen  from  the  book,  more  than  ever  in  doubt,  whether 
or  not  we  really  did  exercise  any  genuine  love  to  our 
heavenly  Father. 

But  in  regard  of  filial  love,  how  teaches  the  young 
child  ?  See  that  little  boy,  sitting  wearied  at  eventide 
by  the  cottage  lintel !  The  day  has  been  long  and  hot ; 
toys  and  flowers  are  scattered  at  his  feet  neglected  and 
forgotten  —  his     head     droops  —  his  eyes  are  closing  ! 


212  TEE    CEILD-TEAGEER. 

But  hark,  now !  There  is  a  quick,  strong  step  on  the 
gravel-walk,  and  a  clear,  cheery  voice  in  the  outer  air ! 
And  see  the  child  now !  How  his  howed  head  lifts 
itself!  How  his  dull  eyes  flash  again !  How  he  springs 
from  his  half-sleep  !  He  cries :  "  Father  is  coming  ! — 
father  is  coming !"  and  with  hounding  step  hastens  to 
welcome  him.  And  do  you  need  further  proof  that  the 
hoy  loves  his  father  ? 

And  a  Christian  should  learn  of  this  child  what  are 
love's  evidences  and  experiences  !  There  are  hours  and 
occasions  when  our  heavenly  Father  comes  home  to  his 
children.  God  comes  to  the  closet,  the  family  altar,  the 
social  prayer-meeting,  the  sanctuary ;  God  speaks  to  us 
hy  his  word  ;  God  communes  with  us  in  his  Spirit ;  and  if 
these  occasions  of  intercourse  are  precious  to  us,  and  like 
the  child  from  its  tasks  and  toys,  we  turn  joyously  from  all 
life's  work  or  play  to  the  Divine  Presence,  crying :  "  Oh, 
my  Father,  my  heavenly  Father  comes  to  meet  his  chil- 
dren," then  we  do  not  need  an  angel's  eye  to  analyze 
our  emotions ;  for  this  is  the  love  of  a  little  child  for  its 
father,  and  this  is  the  love  that  makes  us  great  ones  in 
the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

2d.  Or  take  love  in  its  other  aspect — love  to  our 
brethren — and  let  a  little  child  illustrate  it.  Oh,  how 
beautiful,  how  unselfish,  how  heavenly  is  the  love  of  a 
little  child  for  its  brother,  or  sister,  or  playmate !  It 
does  not  ask  about  the  child's  antecedents  or  surround- 
ings— whether  he  lives  in  a  cottage  or  a  palace — whether 
he  respond  with  a  liturgy  or  was  sprinkled  in  baptism — 
ere  he  share  with  him  his  toys  or  help  bear  on  his 
burden ! 

Thanks  be   unto   God,  in   these   days   of  strife,  and 


TEE    GEILD-TEAGEER.  213 

selfishness,  and  sectarianism;  turning  God's  one  golden 
city,  with  its  twelve  gates  of  pearl,  into  twelve  frowning 
fortresses,  each  with  its  iron  portal —thanks  unto  God 
for  the  illustration  put  upon  true  brotherly  love  by  the 
unselfish  and  joyous  affection  of  a  little  child  for  his 
fellows !  And  may  God  teach  us  all  the  sweet  lesson, 
that  this  unselfish  love  is  the  true  Christian  affection; 
that  a  brotherly  love  that  is  bounded  by  a  particular 
creed  or  communion;  that  does  not  love  the  image  of 
Christ  always  and  everywhere,  is  a  love  that,  burn 
highly  as  it  may,  burns  only  as  a  beacon — it  will  never  en- 
dure the  tremendous  trial  of  a  judgment;  for  it  lacks  the 
grand  element  of  a  child's  love  for  his  fellows,  and  such  is 
the  only  love  that  makes  great  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ! 

Fourthly.  Take  filial  Tbust  or  Confidence,  for  a 
child's  illustration — that  sweet  submission  to  the  Divine 
will,  and  calm  reliance  on  Divine  love,  which  make  life  a 
land  of  Beulah,  and  seem  almost  the  fullness  of  sanctiti- 
cation. 

And  on  this  point  most  of  all  does  a  little  child  seem 
eloquent.  Oh,  happy,  happy  heart  of  gentle,  trustful 
childhood!  With  a  flower,  or  a  bright  shell,  or  the 
song  of  a  wild  bird  in  the  sunshine,  and  a  father's  hand 
to  feed,  and  a  mother's  eye  to  watch,  it  asks  no  more  to 
make  earth  a  paradise  ! 

And  such  surely  should  be  a  Christian's  trust  in  his 
heavenly  Father.  Oh,  ye  faithless  and  disquieted  chil- 
dren of  God !  full  of  fears  and  forebodings  about  the 
things  of  the  morrow,  when  the  whole  future  is  ordered 
for  you  in  God's  covenant  love ;  always  striving  to  cross 
rivers  before  you  come  to  them,  and  to  climb  the  dark 
mountains  that  seem  to  rise  in  your  path  before  you  reach 


214  THE    GEILB-TEAGEER. 

them,  when,  in  all  likelihood,  you  will  find  in  your  way 
neither  river  nor  mountain ;  forgetting  that  God's  dis- 
pensation of  grace  and  love  is :  that  as  your  day,  so  shall 
your  strength  be.  Oh,  ye  trustless  children  of  God,  let  a 
little  child  preach  to  you  !  "  What  did  you  do  ?"  said  a 
mother  to  her  young  boy,  who  had  wandered  away  from 
her  Western  home  and  spent  a  whole  night  in  the  wilder- 
ness— "  What  did  you  do,  my  child,  when  the  twilight 
deepened,  and  the  woods  grew  dark  with  the  coming- 
night  '?"  "  Oh,"  said  the  child,  "  I  gathered  some  berries 
and  nuts,  and  drank  of  a  little  brook,  and  then  found  a 
bank  where  the  grass  was  soft  and  green,  and  then  I  said 
my  prayer'  that  God  would  take  care  of  you  and  little 
sister,  and  then  I  went  to  sleep."  Such  is  the  trustful 
faith  of  childhood — and  such  the  trust  that  makes  great 
in  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

Now,  these  are  only  particulars  of  a  great  general  prin- 
ciple. Had  we  limits,  we  might  use  the  same  illustration 
in  regard  of  all  the  graces  which  make  up  the  character 
of  one  who  is  pre-eminent  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ! 
Indeed,  we  might  go  much  further,  and  show  how  the 
same  principle  applies  as  well  to  the  purely  intellectual, 
as  to  the  emotional.  We  think  that  the  opinions  and 
judgments  little  children  entertain  of  theological  truths 
are  better  than  their  teachers. 

I  go  to  one  of  these  Rabbis  of  theology  and  ask :  "  What 
is  God?'n  and  am  answered,  "God  is  the  Great  First 
Cause  of  things — an  Eternal  and  Infinite  Spirit."  But 
alas,  for  me,  I  can  not  compass  it — that  mysterious  word 
"  spirit  !"  I  marvel  not  that  the  disciples  on  the  Sea  of 
Tiberias  trembled  in  the  wild  night  when  a  phantom-form 
walked  the  waters,  and  "they  thought  it  was  a  spirit." 


THE     GEILD-TEAGHER.  215 

And  when  I  look  forth  upon  the  immensity  of  the  uni- 
verse, and  behold,  as  it  were,  the  outline  of  an  infinite 
and  absolute  Spirit,  and  am  told  that  it  is  God,  I  startle 
and  recoil,  as  the  mighty  seas  roar  around  me,  as  from 
some  awful  phantom  of  a  dream  ! 

Then  I  turn  from  the  school  of  the  Rabbi,  that  I  may 
find  a  little  child  happy  and  trustful  in  its  heavenly  in- 
stincts, and  I  say :  "  My  child,  tell  me,  what  is  God  ?" 
And  he  answers :  "  God  is  my  heavenly  Father  !"  Ah, 
that  is  it !  I  know  it  all  now !  God  is  my  heavenly 
Father  I 

I  go  to  the  theologian  and  say:  "Sir,  what  is  heaven?" 
And  he  discourses  learnedly  about  "  spheres,"  and  "  elim- 
inations," and  "  developments,"  and  "  adaptations,"  — 
about  physical,  and  intellectual,  and  moral  theories  of 
the  higher  life — until  the  heaven  to  which  I  so  fondly 
looked  as  some  enrapturing  reality,  seems  to  me,  in  its 
etherial  refinements  and  unexperienced  modes  of  life, 
such  a  region  of  cold  and  unsubstantial  spirituality,  that 
I  recoil  from  those  very  gates  of  pearl  which  open  only 
to  such  shadowy  though  sublime  phantasms. 

And  again  I  turn  to  my  child-teacher,  and  ask:  "What 
is  heaven  ?"  And  the  child  answers :  "  Heaven  is  my 
Father's  house  of  many  mansions  !  Heaven  is  my  home ! 
Mother  died  and  went  to  heaven,  and  little  sister  died 
and  went  to  heaven ;  and  when  I  die  I  shall  go  to  heav- 
en, and  be  at  home  again,  with  mother  and  sister,  and 
Jesus,  and  God  !" 

Such  are  a  child's  answers.  God  is  my  Father! 
Heaven  is  my  eternal  home!  And  I  know  it  all  now! 
The  simple  instinct  of  childhood  has  taught  me  what  no 
ambitious  thought  could  have  reached. 


21G  TEE    CE1LD-TEACEER. 

And  so  in  all  things  and  always,  whether  in  its  thoughts 
or  its  emotions,  the  happy,  joyous,  trustful,  believing  in- 
tellect of  a  little  child  is,  in  this  fallen  world,  the  most 
beautiful  and  fitting  type  of  the  spiritual  life  that  peo- 
ples immortality.  And  marvelous  alike  in  its  wisdom 
and  its.  love,  was  the  act  of  the  great  Master  when  the 
discrples  questioned  him  about  true  Christian  greatness. 
He  might  have  answered  them  differently.  As  in  their 
ambition,  they  thought  about  the  princes  and  nobles  in 
Christ's  earthly  kingdom,  and  longed  for  temporal  scej)- 
tres,  and  diadems,  and  thrones,  and  came  selfishly  ques- 
tioning him  about  the  qualities  and  exploits  entitling  to 
distinctions  in  the  heavenly  kingdom,  he  might  have 
summoned  again,  as  just  before  on  the  Mount  of  Trans- 
figuration, Moses  and  Elias,  from  the  celestial  spheres. 
And  as,  lustrous  with  white  robe  and  diadem,  those 
crowned  creatures  of  eternity  floated  above  them  in  a 
sea  of  glory,  he  might  have  pointed  to  the  gorgeous 
apparition,  and  cried,  with  overwhelming  impressiveness : 
Behold  !  Such  are  the  great  ones  in  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.  But  with  a  deeper  manifestation  of  wisdom  and 
love,  he  took  a  little  child  and  set  him  in  the  midst  of 
them;  and  as  they  gazed  upon  that  childish  humility, 
and  gentleness,  and  faith,  he  said:  '•'■Except  ye  be  con- 
verted and  become  as  little  children,  ye  can  not  see  the 
kingdom  of  God!" 

And  so,  doubtless,  would  he  do  again  were  he  to 
descend  and  walk  in  the  midst  of  the  churches ;  and,  ah 
me  !  how  we  should  all  be  startled,  more  than  at  the  ad- 
vent of  a  preaching  angel,  as,  led  by  the  Saviour's  hand, 
that  little  child  came,  in  humble,  simple,  loving  faith,  into 
our  Sabbath  assemblies  !     We  should  all  be  terrified  :-  - 


THE    CHILD-TEACHER.  217 

that  ambitious  theologian,  searching  with  unholy  eye  the 
deep  mysteries  of  God's  hidden  counsels,  determined  to 
believe  nothing  whose  philosophy  is  beyond  him — that 
bigot  sectary  quarreling  with  Christians  of  every  other 
name  about  forms  and  dogmas,  as  if  to  contend  earnestly 
for  the  faith  were  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  Christ's  friends 
just  for  the  sake  of  a  battle — that  self-seeking  Diotraphes 
ever  struggling  for  pre-eminence,  as  if  the  race  for  glory 
were  an  envious  strife  for  Olympian  laurels — that  proud 
Pharisee  making  long  prayers  for  a  pretense,  while  devour- 
ing widows'  houses ;  wearing  broad  phylacteries  in  the 
chief  seats  in  the  synagogues,  as  if  God  could  not  but  be 
honored  by  such  aristocracy  of  discipleship — that  gloomy 
and  sorrowful  believer,  walking  tearfully  to  glory,  as  if 
he  were  completing  Christ's  sacrifice  in  his  own  self- 
rigrhteous  agonies ;  as  if  it  were  a  sad  thins:  to  have 
heaven  for  a  home  and  God  for  a  father — how,  in  short, 
we  should  all  be  startled  and  appalled,  as,  lifting  that 
fair  child  before  us,  in  all  its  humility,  and  gentleness, 
and  faith,  the  glorious  Master  should  utter  again,  with 
his  earnest  voice,  the  text's  solemn  truth:  " Except  ye  be 
converted  and  become  as  little  children,  ye  can  not  see  the 
kingdom  of  God." 

Let  us  take  to  our  hearts  and  our  homes  the  solemn  les- 
son :  1st.  Let  God's  professing  children  consider  it  care- 
fully. Alas  for  the  solemn  question,  "  Lord,  are  there 
few  that  be  saved?"  "  When  the  Son  of  Man  cometh, 
will  he  find  faith  on  earth?"  as  if  the  glory  of  the  sec- 
ond advent  would  fall  on  a  world  and  a  Church  all  grace- 
less and  abandoned,  whence  faith  had  been  swept  away 
in  the  flood-tides  of  Pharisaism  ! 

For  where,  tell  me,  where  are  the  little  children  of  God 
10 


218  THE    CHILD-TEACHER. 

in  the  churches  ?  We  have  great  men  and  women 
enough,  beyond  question — disciples  who  can  speculate 
about  mysterious  doctrines,  as  if  God's  awful  oracles 
were  curious  enigmas  for  the  exercise  of  our  logic — who 
vapor  in  the  championship  of  sect  or  school,  as  if  "  the 
good  fight  of  faith"  were  an  everlasting  battle  "with 
wild  beasts  at  Ephesus" — who  can  flash  and  roar  for 
Christ  in  public  places  and  on  great  occasions,  as  if  the 
savor  of  Christian  life  were  not  the  soft,  sweet  light,  but 
the  terrible  lightning.  Surely,  we  have  great  men  enough 
in  the  Church,  until,  one  would  think,  that  every  mother  of 
Israel  had  wedded  a  Manoah  and  brought  forth  a  Samson  ! 
But  the  children,  the  little  children,  humble,  trustful, 
docile,  obedient,  full  of  faith  and  good  works,  forgetful 
of  self  in  their  toil  for  man's  good  and  God's  glory.  Oh  ! 
I  see  not  the  little  children  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven! 

God  bring  the  great  truth  home  to  us :  "  We  must  be 
converted  and  become  as  little  children.''''  A  religion  that 
makes  a  man  proud,  and  self-righteous,  and  pretentious, 
and  sectarian,  is  not  Christ's  religion.  A  piety  that  does 
not  make  him  humble,  affectionate,  loving,  happy,  is  a 
false  principle  altogether.  For  Christ  himself  being  the 
teacher,  a  little  child  is  the  pattern  of  true  greatness  in 
the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

2d.  Meanwhile  let  the  impenitent  as  well  receive  the 
great  lesson.  You  see  here  what  it  is  to  become  a  true 
Christian.  Alas,  what  strange  notions  the  world  forms 
of  the  effect  upon  life  of  practical  religion  !  But,  as  set 
forth  in  the  Saviour's  illustration,  what  is  it  to  be  a 
Christian  ?  Is  it  to  give  up  all  that  is  bright  and  joyous 
in  the  present  world,  and  become  melancholy  and  martyr- 
like, and  walk  to  the  grave  with   wrinkled   brow  and 


THE    CHILD-TEACHER.  219 

wounded  spirit  ?     Is  this  practical  piety  ?     Ah,  no  !     As 

set  forth  by  our  Saviour,  to  be  a  Christian  is  not  to  be  a 
sorrowful  specimen  of  monstrous  manhood,  but  simply 
and  only  to  become  a  little  child!  To  turn  away  from 
the  cares  and  controversies  of  the  grown-up  world,  and 
to  become  a  fair,  young,  laughing  child  again,  with  a 
pure,  trustful,  loving,  happy  heart.  It  is  to  become  the 
subject  of  the  miracle  for  which  the  genius  of  the  elder 
world  yearned  in  its  wrapt  dreams — to  be  bathed  in  the 
mystic  fountains  of  immortal  youth  !  To  be  made  young 
again  !  To  be  born  again  !  To  become  little  children 
again  !  To  go  back,  as  it  were,  from  the  stern  battle  and 
bivouac  of  manhood  to  the  peacefulness  and  gladness  of 
life's  bright  morning — to  the  serene  pastoral  holiday  of 
the  child,  with  the  unclouded  brow  and  the  happy  heart ! 

Yes,  and  more:  to  be  God's  little  child  again  !  and  so 
to  have  the  infinite  Jehovah  for  a  father,  and  heaven  for 
a  home,  and  all  bright  spirits  the  sisters  of  the  house- 
hold !  To  be  God's  little  child,  and  so,  in  filial  love  and 
trust,  to  sit  at  his  mighty  feet,  and  look  up  into  his 
glorious  face,  ami  though  the  coals  burn  and  the  light- 
nings  play,  and  the  very  pillars  of  the  universe  rock  as 
with  an  earthquake,  still  to  cry,  in  joyous  trust:  "My 
Father,  my  Father !"  To  take  hold  of  the  almighty  hand 
that  moves  the  constellations,  walking  joyously  the  ap- 
pointed path,  knowing  that  through  the  cloud,  and  the 
storm,  and  the  starless  midnight  a  loving  Father  is  lead- 
ing us  to  a  blessed  home  in  heaven. 

This  is  it,  simply  and  only,  to  be  a  Christian  on  earth, 
and  what  it  shall  be  to  be  a  Christian  in  heaven,  no 
mortal  can  tell.  Oh,  that  mysterious  and  paradoxical 
mingling  of  imagery  in  the  revelation  of  eternity  !     To 


220  THE    CHILD-TEACHER. 

be  a  little  child,  and  yet  a  crowned  immortal — a  king 
and  a  priest  unto  Clod  for  ever  and  ever.  Heaven,  God's 
Blighty  throne — God's  glorious  mansion — yet  my  familiar 
home  !  God,  the  infinite  and  everlasting  Jehovah,  yet 
my  heavenly  Father  !  Ah,  we  know  not  what  it  means  ! 
Yet,  be  the  meaning  what  it  may,  this  is  what  you  are 
called  to  in  this  Gospel  invitation. 

We  stand  here  to-day,  not  urging  you  to  give  up  any 
good  thing  for  Christ,  nor  to  take  up  any  load  or  burden 
for  Christ.  But  as  unto  prodigals  in  a  far  country,  who 
have  wandered  from  their  father's  house,  and  wasted 
their  substance,  and  are  sad-hearted  and  squalid,  and 
overborne  in  vile  labor,  our  cry  is  ever  and  only:  "Oh, 
your  home  is  open,  and  your  Father  with  welcome  and 
white  robes  await  you.  Poor  prodigal  children — come 
home  !  come  home  !"  And  what  a  home  it  is,  and  what 
a  blessed  home-going !  Joyous  is  it  ever  to  turn  from 
the  cold  and  wearying  world  to  the  loving  household. 
The  child,  lost  in  the  woods  and  found  at  last,  and  borne 
by  strong  arms  from  the  roaring  forest  and  the  wild 
night  to  the  mother's  gentle  arms,  and  the  father's  board 
and  hearth,  was  unutterably  blessed.  But  happier,  far 
happier,  the  heavenward  return  of  the  redeemed  spirit. 
In  the  golden  evening  of  time — from  all  the  storms  and 
darkness  of  this  troublous  world — along  yonder  high- 
ways of  sapphires,  through  all  the  glowing  lustres  of  the 
firmament,  to  the  uncreated  glories  and  enrapturing  wel- 
comes of  heaven — going  home!  going  home! 


COMMUNION". 


"My  beloved  has  gone  down  info  his  garden,  to  the  beds  of  spices,  to  feed 
in  the  garden,  and  to  gather  lilies.  I  am  my  beloved 's,  and  my  beloved 
is  mine." — Solomox's  Song,  vi.  2,  3. 

The  exquisite  pastoral  from  which  our  text  is  taken 
is  peculiarly  fitted  for  sacramental  meditation — be- 
cause its  design  is  to  set  forth  the  mutual  love  of 
Christ  and  his  disciples  ;  and  because  his  disciples  in  ap- 
proaching the  sacrament  should  be  in  frames  of  mind 
fitted  to  appreciate  its  exquisite  imagery.  It  is  a 
book  which  no  profane  hand  should  ever  be  permitted 
to  open,  and  which  no  profane  hand  should  be  per- 
mitted to  close.  To  the  carnal  heart  it  may  afford 
ground  of  cavil.  To  a  heart  knowing  experimentally 
Christ's  loveliness  and  the  believer's  love,  it  is  full  of 
precious  truth  and  consolation.  We  may  say  of  it,  as 
has  been  said  of  "  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  that  it  is  like  "  a 
painting  meant  to  be  exhibited  by  fire-light.  The  com- 
mon reader,  seeing  it  only  by  day,  regards  it  only  as  a 
sensuous  picture.  While  to  the  loving  child  of  God  it  is 
a  glorious  transparency,  and  the  light  which  shines 
through,  giving  to  its  incidents  such  life,  to  its  colors 
such  depth,  to  its  whole  scenery  such  surpassing  beauty, 
is  light  from  eternity — the  meaning  of  heaven." 


222  COMMUNION. 

Opening  the  book  in  frames  which  befit  the  sacrament 
our  text  needs  no  exposition.  It  exhibits  the  mutual 
love  of  Christ  and  his  people.  The  pleasure  Christ  has 
in  communing  with  the  believer,  and  the  believer's 
pleasure  in  communing  with  Christ. 

The  picture  is  of  an  Oriental  garden,  wherein  walk 
two  loving  spirits,  joyously  conversing,  while  they  par- 
take of  its  delicious  fruits;  and  it  sets  forth,  as  appli- 
cable to  the  sacramental  communion,  two  things : — 

I.  Christian  Duty. 

II.  Christian  Privilege — i.  e.  What  at  this  sacrament 
Christ  expects  of  his  people.  And  what  at  this  sacra- 
ment his  people  may  expect  of  Christ. 

We  have  here  first — Christian  duty.  Regarding 
Christ  as  the  subject,  it  represents  him  as  greatly 
rejoicing  in  the  graces  of  his  people.  The  Church 
is  here  represented  as  Christ's  garden  into  which 
he  then  descends  to  delight  himself  with  the  gra- 
cious fruits  of  the  believer's  spiritual  life.  And  our 
lesson  of  duty  is  that  at  the  sacrament  we  should 
experience  and  exhibit  such  spiritual  affections  as 
seem  unto  Christ  precious — fruits  to  be  eaten — lilies 
to  be  gathered !  Consider  these  graces : — 1.  Faith 
— That  saving  grace  whereby  we  receive  and  rest  on 
him  alone  for  salvation.  This  is  the  foundation  of 
all  religious  life.  In  its  implantation  a  purely  divine 
work — in  its  development  the  efflorescence  and  fruitage 
of  an  earnest  Christian  life ; — and  so  depending  for  its 
vigor  on  our  own  diligence  in  well  doing.  Now  this 
grace  Christ  delights  in,  for  it  greatly  honors  and  glori- 
fies him.  In  its  ascription  of  salvation  to  him  alone  it 
virtually  places  the  mediatorial  crown    upon  his  head. 


COMMUNION.  223 

And  so  he  is  everywhere  represented  as  greatly  rejoicing 
in  the  strong  faith  of  his  disciples. 

Behold  him  at  Nazareth.  Having  begun  his  miracu- 
lous work  elsewhere,  we  imagine  him  returning  to  the 
village  wherein  he  had  so  long  dwelt,  earnestly  desiring 
to  Leal  the  diseases  and  relieve  the  distresses  of  his  own 
familiar  friends.  And  yet  we  find  him  hindered  in  that 
work  of  mercy,  offended,  amazed,  grieved, — not  able  to 
do  miracles  there  because  of  their  unbelief! 

See  him  at  Bethany  !  Having  returned  in  love  to  the 
bereaved  sisters,  about  to  give  back  the  beloved  brother 
to  their  home  and  heart, — yet,  in  that  very  hour  of 
seeming  rapture,  pausing,  troubled,  groaning  in  spirit, 
weeping  because  of  their  unbelief.  See  him  after  his  own 
resurrection,  on  the  very  eve  of  his  ascension  to  glory, 
in  the  act  of  sending  forth  his  disciples  to  evangelize  all 
nations, — yet  pausing  sadly,  reproachfully,  to  upbraid 
them  for  their  unbelief.  And  so  always.  Oh,  how  he 
delighted  in  the  strong  faith  of  his  disciples  !  How  he 
ever  grieved  at  their  unbelief!  For  unbelief  seemed  to 
him  the  foundation  of  other  sins,  and  so  the  greatest  of 
all  sins.  And  so  in  regard  of  ourselves.  He  wants  us 
to  trust  in  him  fully  for  all  things — in  his  love  to  devise, 
in  his  power  to  perform.  Our  distrust  dishonors  and 
grieves  him,  just  as  a  child's  distrust  grieves  and  dis- 
honors a  parent.  We  may  be  in  circumstances  of  distress, 
of  temptation,  of  deep  and  sore  trial;  but  what,  then? 
Oh,  let  us  cast  our  whole  burden  on  Christ !  He  delights 
to  bear  it ;  he  is  honored  in  bearing  it.  Faith — strong, 
unfaltering,  triumphant  faith — is  that  glorious  fruit  of  the 
Spirit  with  which  he  is  so  well  pleased.  He  delights  in 
it — especially  when  his  people  sit  at  his  table.     Then  he 


22i  COMMUNION. 

comes  into  his  garden  to  rejoice  in  its  gracious  growth ; 
he  searches  the  heds  of  spices  for  the  bright  flower  of 
faith;  he  stands  under  the  growing  trees,  looking  for 
the  ripe  fruit  of  faith :  and,  alas,  if  he  find  only  a  poor 
withered  flower,  or  unripened  fruit,  when  he  should 
find  the  hanks  all  a-bloom,  and  the  branches  all  bend- 
ing for  the  refreshment  of  his  soul !  Away  with  all  un- 
belief from  Christ's  table  to-day  !  O  troubled  soul  ! 
trust  on  your  Saviour,  exult  in  your  Saviour !  Let  faith 
as  a  flower  fill  all  the  air  of  the  garden ;  let  faith  as  a 
fruit  of  the  Spirit  cover  all  the  grace-tree,  for  "  Behold 
my  Beloved  hath  come  to  his  beds  of  spices  to  feed  in  his 
garden  and  to  gather  lilies." 

And  as  of  this  foundation-grace,  so  of  all  graces. 
Consider,  2d.  Love, — which  is  the  soul's  crowning  grace, 
or,  a  grand  composite  of  all  graces.  For,  in  strict  speech, 
they  are  all  modifications  of  love — penitence  is  love 
grieving — faith  is  love  resting — obedience  is  love  work- 
ing— hope  is  love  waiting.  So  that  love  toward  man 
and  toward  God  is  at  once  the  law  fulfilled,  and  holi- 
ness perfected. 

And  in  this  Christ  delights.  He  looks  here  for  strong 
brotherly  love.  This  is  a  communion  of  saints — the 
return  of  brothers  and  sisters,  from  the  ruder  wprld  with- 
out, to  the  home-board  and  banquet.  And,  alas,  if  he 
find  animosity,  or  alienation,  among  those  sitting  at  his 
side — resting  on  his  bosom !  He  looks  for  love  toward 
himself.  It  is  marvelous  that  he  should  desire  it.  For 
behold  all  the  heavenly  orders — thrones  and  dominions 
ami  principalities  and  powers — are  bowed  in  adoration 
before  the  Lamb  that  was  slain  !  And  why  should  he 
desire   our   poor   offerings   of    affection?     But  he  does 


COMMUNION.  225 

desire  them.  This  love,  as  embracing  all  other  graces, 
is  the  essence  of  all  holiness — thai  very  condition  of  sal- 
vation which  sets  the  believing  soul  as  a  priceless  gem  in 
the  Saviour's  crown.  Without  love,  Christ's  travailing 
soul  could  not  he  satisfied.  And  he  comes  looking  for  it 
to-day ;  and  here  he  should  find  it.  Love,  penitential 
love,  trusting  love,  consecrating  love,  exulting  love, 
should  be  the  ruling  emotion  as  we  sit  here  with  the 
Master.  Surely  he  deserves  it !  The  mighty  Shepherd 
who,  rushing  to  my  rescue,  tore  my  bleeding  soul  from 
the  ravening  monster's  fang — the  Omnipotent  Champion 
who  stormed  the  stronghold  of  death,  and  with  bleeding- 
hand  opened  the  prison-door,  loosed  the  iron  fetter,  and 
on  his  bleeding  bosom  bore  me  forth  to  the  living  world 
to  be  his  disciple  here,  and  his  joint  heir  forever  of 
heaven's  crown  and  kingdom — surely  he  deserves  our 
love  !  And  he  delights  in  it.  As  the  heart  of  a  father  is 
grieved  at  the  want  of  love  in  a  child,  so  Christ  grieves 
over  our  lifeless  affections.  And  now,  as  represented  in 
the  text,  he  has  come  into  his  garden  to  refresh  himself 
with  this  grace.  He  bends  down  over  the  beds  of  spices 
to  gather  love's  blossoms — he  looks  up  into  the  trees  of 
the  garden  to  gather  the  fruits  of  love — and  alas  !  alas  ! 
if  he  finds  only  the  fruits  unripened  and  the  flowers 
dead  ! 

Such  is  the  text's  simple  figure.  The  lesson  of  duty  is, 
that  in  approaching  the  communion  we  should  not  only 
desire  refreshment  ourselves,  but  afford  it  to  our  Re- 
deemer !  Here  to  cast  at  his  feet  the  flower  and  fruit  of 
grace,  as  we  shall  cast  at  his  feet  jn  heaven  our  crowns 
of  glory !  The  Church  is  Christ's  garden — a  field  which 
he   hath  redeemed   from  wilderness,  and   inclosed   and 

10* 


226  COMMUNION. 

planted  with  germs  of  a  heavenly  growth;  whose  spirit- 
ual fruits  are  love,  joy,  peace,  long-suffering,  gentleness, 
goodness,  faith.  And  now  in  the  time  of  fruit — when  the 
whole  garden  should  be  as  paradise,  its  banks  soft  and 
green,  its  airs  fragrant  with  precious  odors,  its  flowers  in 
their  full  splendor,  its  trees  and  vines  bending  with  richest 
fruit — now  the  adored  one  descends  to  delight  himself 
with  our  graces,  and  woe,  woe  !  if  he  find  the  air  without 
fragrance,  and  the  flower-beds  without  beauty,  and  the 
trees  without  fruit.  Oh,  touching  picture !  God  impress 
it  on  our  hearts  that  we  may  come  aright  to  thy  table. 
"Eehold  the  beloved  hath  gone  down  into  Jus  garden  to 
the  beds  of  sjnees,  to  feed  in  the  garden  and  to  gather 
lilies." 

This  is  the  text's  first  thought.  But  it  has  another 
one.  It  represents  not  only  the  pleasure  Christ  takes 
in  his  people,  but  the  pleasure  they  take  in  Christ.  "  I 
am  my  beloved's,  and  my  beloved  is  mine.''''  We  have 
here  secondly — The  Christianas  privilege.  Regarding 
the  believer  as  the  subject,  it  represents  his  soul  as 
greatly  rejoicing  in  the  sacrament,  gathering  in  Christ's 
garden  the  heavenly  fruit.  These  fruits  are  the  gra- 
cious gifts  imparted  by  the  Saviour.  Consider  a  few 
of  them.  Take  them  as  they  are  presented  in  Christ's 
discourse  in  that  guest-chamber.  1st.  Peace. — Peace  ! 
What  a  sweet  word  it  is !  Its  sound  is  like  the  cadence 
of  an  angel's  voice  from  heaven.  '•'•Peace  I  leave  you, 
my  peace  I  give  unto  you.''''  Oh,  enrapturing  gift ! 
And  as  a  grace  springing  from  reconciliation  to  God, 
and  maintained  by  faith  in  Christ,  felt  in  its  fullest 
power  at  this  precious  sacrament.  "Peace!  Peace,  not 
as  the  world  giveth."     Truly  hath  God  said,  "There  is 


COMMUNION.  227 

no  peace  for  the  wicked."  "They  are  like  the  troubled 
sea."  Sometimes  for  a  moment  tranquil ;  but  alas,  how 
treacherous !  The  more  terrible  in  its  tranquillity,  as 
the  harbinger  of  the  tempest,  that  will  open  a  thousand 
yawning  gulfs  around  the  poor  laboring,  staggering 
bark  !  Not  such  the  Christian's  peace.  "  That  shall 
be  as  a  river.''''  The  bright,  full,  joyous,  ever  widening, 
deepening  stream,  that  under  sheltering  banks  rolls  its 
silver  tide  by  his  cottage-door !  Peace  !  Heavenly 
peace  !  What  a  blessed  thought !  Quiet,  tranquillity, 
spiritual,  and  immortal  rest !  And  for  this  we  come  to 
•Christ  in  the  sacrament.  Elsewhere  even  the  believer's 
soul  may  be  troubled,  like  the  same  bride  in  the  con- 
text, forlorn  in  life's  broad  ways,  seeking  the  Beloved. 
Perplexed,  tempted,  tribulated,  overweighted  in  the 
race,  overmatched  in  the  battle.  But  not  here.  Be- 
hold a  garden  walled  up  to  heaven  !  And  through  its 
open  portal  the  soid  passes,  leaning  on  the  beloved,  to 
bathe  heart  and  spirit  in  the  everlasting  fullness  of 
God's  glorious  peace !  O  child  of  God  !  away  with 
all  doubt,  all  fear,  all  despondency!  What  should 
trouble  you  now  ?  Here  is  assurance  of  salvation ! 
Look  on  these  emblems  !  Here  is  a  divine  work  begun, 
and  God  leaves  no  work  unfinished.  Here  is  a  divine 
price  paid  down,  and  God's  purchase  is  always  with 
assured  title.  Look  at  these  emblems !  Why,  if  here 
lay — brought  by  angels  out  of  heaven — the  white  robe, 
the  sceptre,  t\\e  diadem,  that  are  reserved  for  you  in 
glory;  and  you  could  approach  and  look  upon  them, 
and  lift  them  up, — all  this  were  less,  as  assurance  of 
your  heavenly  Father's  love,  than  these  precious  me- 
morials.     Cast   away,  then,  all   anxious    care    as    you 


228  COMMUXIOF. 

walk  with  your  loving  Redeemer  through  these  bowers 
of  heavenly  peace  ! 

But  more  than  this,  Christ  in  this  sacrament  promises, 
2dly.  Joy. — "These  things  have  I  spoken  unto  you,  thai 
my  joy  might  remain  with  yon,  and  that  your  joy  might 
he  fulV     And  what  glorious,  joy-imparting  words  they 
m  were  !     About  the  love  of  the  Father,  the  grace  of  the 
Comforter,  the  place  prepared    in  the    many  mansions, 
the  coming  again  to  take  the  redeemed  one  home.     No 
marvel    that  they  gave  joy,  a  joy  that  sent  them  out 
even  into  the  wild  night  and  Gethsemane  and  Calvary, 
filling  all  the  cold  air  with  the  glad  song  of  the  Pass- 
over !      And   what   wonderful  joy   it   was.      My   Joy ! 
Christ's  own  joy.     The  same  sacred  bliss  that  thrills  the 
heart  of  the  ascended  Saviour  as  he  rests  this  hour  on  the 
bosom  of  Infinite  Love  !     As  if  one  of  those  Divine  pulses 
Avere  beating  rapturously  in  the  believer's  life  and  soul ! 
And  this  is  better  than  peace  ;    for  that  is  but  a  pas- 
sive rest,  this  is  a  reigning  rapture  !     "We  enter  God's 
garden    to-day   for   more    than   shelter;    we    look   for 
more  than  this   wall  of  adamant  that  resists  the  tem- 
pest.    We  seek  here  the  rai'est  flowers  and  the  richest 
fruits  of  a  king's  garden   of  spices  !      From  the   cold, 
troublous,    torturing    world    we    turn    to    this    gracious 
inclosure.     We    pass    the    portal — and   behold     what    a 
new  and  fairer  world  is  above  and  around  us  !     What 
banks    of    living    green !     What    bright    clear    waters ! 
How  sweet  the  air  with  sunbeams  and  song  of  birds ! 
What    resplendent   blossoms !       What    glorious    fruits ! 
Oli,    what     adorable     and     enrapturing     truths     flame 
out    as  in   letters  of  light  from  these  sacred    emblems ! 
Justification — adoption — sanctification — immutability — 


COMMUNION.  229 

eternal  life!  Christ,  my  Divine  Shepherd!  God, 
my  heavenly  Father !  Here,  a  Providence  work- 
ing omnipotently  all  things  together  for  my  good. 
Yonder  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of 
glory !  And  standing  here  what  shall  trouble  me  !  O 
garden  of  God  !  pour  round  us  all  thy  treasures  !  O 
child  of  God!  do  not  tell  me  of  troubles.  Have  God's 
providences  seemed  disquieting  ?  Hath  God  disappoint- 
ed your  hopes  ;  taken  away  your  possessions  ?  But 
hearken  to  the  Saviour's  words,  "  Every  branch  that 
beareth  fruit  he  purgeth  it  that  it  may  bring  forth  more 
fruit."  That  is  what  trial  is — the  husbandman's  prun- 
ing-knife  used  in  love  of  his  growing  things. 

Have  you  lost  beloved  ones?  O  mother  of  dead 
children !  are  faith's  wings  heavy  amid  the  cypresses  ? 
Hark  to  the  Bride's  sweet  words,  "  My  beloved  hath  gone 
down  into  his  garden  to  gather  lilies.''''  Oh,  that  is  what 
death  is  !  The  gathering,  by  the  Divine  hand,  flowers 
from  the  earthly  garden,  to  pour  forth  their  fragrance  and 
beauty  in  the  heavenly  palace !  Even  our  trials  seem 
blessed  as  we  sit  at  Christ's  table !  And  for  the  rest  it 
is  all  rapture!  What  heart  can  be  troubled,  walking 
side  by  side  with  Immanuel !  Who  can  forbear  the 
triumph,  or  repress  the  rapture  !  Here !  shut  in  from 
life's  storms,  how  like  a  very  paradise  seems  the  Chris- 
tian Church.  Oh,  these  glorious  attributes  of  God,  how 
like  adamantine  bulwarks  they  rise  between  us  and 
life's  stonns !  Oh,  this  peace  of  God !  how  it  bathes 
my  panting  heart  as  in  the  stormless  atmosphere  of 
heaven !  Oh,  this  faith  in  Christ !  how  it  illumes  all 
these  skies  as  with  sparklings  of  the  things  hoped  for, 
the  palaces  and  pinnacles  of  the  city  of  God!     Oh,  this 


230  COMMUNION. 

love  of  the  Father!  how  it  fills  the  whole  garden  as 
with  the  odor  of  deathless  flowers  and  the  music  of 
singing  creatures  from  eternity !  Oh,  this  joy  in  the 
Holy  Ghost !  how  it  bends  to  my  thirsty  lip  the  very 
clusters  of  the  fruit  from  the  living  trees  of  heaven  ! 
O  troubled  heart !  enter  into  thy  rest,  exult  in  thy  rap- 
ture !  O  garden  of  God !  refresh  us  with  thy  living 
waters,  breathe  round  us  thy  sweet  odors,  strengthen 
us  with  thy  blessed  fruits.  O  thou  Incarnate  One ! 
our  King,  our  Shepherd,  our  Saviour,  who  hast  set  us 
as  a  seal  upon  thy  right  arm  and  upon  thy  heart, 
make  haste,  like  a  hart  upon  the  mountain  of  spices, 
that  we  may  walk  in  thy  garden  and  feast  in  thy  ban- 
quet ing-house,  thy  heavenly  voice  filling  all  the  soul, 
and  thy  banner  over  us  Love — Love  ! 


THE  MORTAL  IMMORTALIZED. 


"  This  mortal  must  put  on  immortality." — I.  Corinthians,  xv.  53. 

Osr  other  occasions  we  have  considered  the  great  apos- 
tolic argument  of  the  context.  At  present,  we  propose 
no  more  than  by  a  single  implied  truth  of  the  text,  to 
correct  some  false  impressions  of  man's  condition  after 
death.  Among  the  few  who  take  thought  at  all  for  im- 
mortality, there  are  two  distinct  and  antagonistic  schools, 
which  we  may  term  characteristically  the  Sensuous  and 
the  Spiritual. 

The  one,  on  the  presumption  that  death  affects  not 
personal  identity,  nor,  indeed,  any  of  the  true  elements 
of  character,  and  that  immortal  scenes  and  conditions 
must  be  adjusted  to  that  character,  picture  to  themselves 
a  heaven  of  physical  blessedness,  differing  from  earth 
only  in  the  absence  of  all  that  can  annoy,  and  the  full- 
ness and  fruition  of  all  that  can  enrapture.  To  them, 
heaven  is  only  a  glorified  earth — immortality  only  the 
state  of  the  well-developed  mortal ! 

While  the  other  class,  magnifying  above  what  is 
written,  the  effects  of  death  and  the  Resurrection,  regard 
heaven  as  a  state  utterly  unlike  all  that  the  mortal  has 
seen  and  experienced — where  the  soul,  in  conditions  alto- 
gether  etherealized,   shall    exist   in   the  transcendental 


232      TEE    MORTAL    IMMORTALIZED. 

majesty  of  a  risen  spirit,  rather  than  as  a  redeemed  and 
yet  veritable  man  in  Christ  Jesus. 

Now  of  both  these  classes  of  expectants  of  immortal- 
ity are  the  notions  alike  unphilosophic  and  unscripturaL 
Heaven  and  its  higher  life  are  more  than  this  earthly, 
purified  and  perfected,  and  yet  the  redeemed  creatures 
that  are  to  people  heaven  will  be  in  all  constitutional 
faculties  as  truly  men  as  these  earthly  races.  And  all 
this  our  text  plainly  teaches. 

"  This  mortal  must  put  on  immortality.'''' 

This  language  implies,  not  transubstantiation,  but 
transfiguration — a  change  not  of  an  essence  but  only  of 
aspects.  It  is  the  self-same  nature  we  have  here — these 
very  attributes  and  energies  which  constitute  our  human- 
ity— that  is  to  emerge  uneffected  from  the  dark  flood, 
and  wear  on  the  far  shore  the  splendors  of  immortality. 

The  text  gives  us  twofold  data  for  solving  the  prob- 
lem of  the  after  state.  It  predicts  the  man's  sameness 
and  yet  the  while  the  man's  transfiguration.  It  speaks 
of  the  "mortal"  that  shall  not  be  injured  by  death,  and 
yet  of  the  "  immortality''''  that  shall  be  put  on  it  as  a 
glorious  gai'ment. 

Treating  these  two  thoughts  in  their  order,  we  are 
concerned : — First,  With  the  affirmed  identity  of  the 
immortal  creature  with  the  mortal. 

Though  at  death  we  are  unquestionably  to  lose  what- 
ever can  be  shown  to  belong  only  to  this  rudimental  life 
— as  the  chrysalis  drops  the  exuviae  in  developing  the 
wings — yet  all  faculties  and  functions  essentialy  human 
are  to  be  ours  forever.  Even  in  regard  of  the  body  is  this 
strictly  the  truth.  Whatever  may  be  the  bliss  of  the 
state  into  which  the  redeemed  soul  passes  at  its  separa- 


THE    MORTAL    IMMORTALIZED.     033 

tion  from  the  flesh — yet  reason  and  revelation  alike 
declare  it  to  be  unnatural,  and  so  imperfect.  Speculate  as 
we  will,  death,  self-considered,  can  not  be  made  to  appear 
a  benefit.  It  is  not  a  step  in  a  progress — it  is  an  inter- 
ruption— a  judicial  infliction — God's  curse  upon  sin — and, 
but  for  the  sin,  a  cruelty.  Indeed,  how  the  soul  can  act 
in  the  future  world,  when  divested  of  this  body,  we  can 
not  understand.  But  even  if,  as  Paul  seems  to  intimate, 
it  is  immediately  furnished  with  a  suitable  abode  or 
organism — not  altogether  "  unclothed,  but  clothed  upon,1'' 
still  we  know  that  in  the  intermediate  state  between 
death  and  the  Resurrection,  it  enjoys  but  part  of  "  the 
eternal  weight  of  glory"  which  shall  rest  upon  the  perfect 
man  in  the  Resurrection  body.  And  therefore  we  do  not 
marvel  that  from  the  dust  of  the  sepulchre  is,  at  last,  as 
a  trophy  of  the  mediatorship,  to  be  reconstructed  a  new 
body  like  Christ's,  to  ascend  with  the  triumphing  Imman- 
uel,  and  go  forth  as  part  of  the  redeemed  man  along  the 
bright  paths  of  immortality. 

But  if  this  identity  seem  necessarily  true  in  regard  of 
the  body,  how  more  manifestly  true  is  it  in  regard  to  the 
mind.  I  mean  the  attributes  and  activities  of  our 
purely  intellectual  nature.  Even  as  a  philosophic  in- 
quiry there  appears  no  reason  why  death  should  work 
any  change  in  our  rational  nature.  Accepting  as  a 
simple  matter  of  faith,  the  truth  of  the  soul's  immortality, 
we  should,  a  priori,  expect  that,  as  the  last  enemy  rocked 
its  dwelling  into  dust,  it  would  emerge  from  the  ruins  to 
enter  the  paths  of  the  higher  life  with  all  its  peculiar  habits 
of  thought,  and  at  precisely  its  attained  point  of  progress 
— no  more  truly  a  man  amid  these  earthly  scenes,  than 
amid  the  glorious  scholarship  and  fellowship  of  eternity. 


234      THE    MORTAL    IMMORTALIZED. 

And  if  you  accept  the  popular  distinction  between  the 
rational  and  emotional  in  our  nature,  still  the  text's 
thought  must  be  true  of  it.  There  is  surely  no  stranger 
mistake  than  that  which  regards  these  strong  natural 
affections  as  the  specialties  of  the  present  life — moral 
exuviae  cast  off  when  the  spirit  wings  its  way  to 
eternity. 

What  we  are  wont  to  term  "  the  heart " — that  system 
of  sympathies  and  affections — whereby  in  all  narrower 
or  broader  senses,  "  God  setteth  the  solitary  in  families" 
— is  among  the  most  indestructible  elements  of  our 
being.  And  it  is  widely  to  mistake  the  truth  and 
greatly  to  degrade  our  conceptions  of  immortality  to 
speak  of  the  risen  spirit,  as  soaring  out  of  the  sphere  of 
these  earthly  and  mortal  loves  in  its  ascent  to  the  fellow- 
ship with  God  and  his  angels.  Pure  intellect,  uu- 
softened  by  affection,  is  simply  monstrous.  Entering 
heaven  with  our  logic  intensified  and  our  love  gone, 
our  sympathies  would  be  fiendish.  Affection  is,  even 
metaphysically  considered,  man's  noblest  attribute. 
And  the  more  you  equip  him  for  the  higher  spheres  of 
pure  intellect,  the  more  fearful  and  phantom-like  you 
make  him,  if  his  ascent  is  to  be  out  of  the  power  and 
memory  of  these  beautiful  affections  of  the  earthly  ho  ne 
and  heart. 

In  this  respect  emphatically  the  mortal  falls  not  away 
as  the  dead  shroud  of  the  chrysalis — but  "  the  mortal 
does  put  on  immortality."  Said  our  Saviour  (when 
asserting  his  right  to  the  Divine  titles,  "  the  Resurrection 
and  the  Life,"  standing  by  the  beloved  dead  with  the 
sistei-s  of  Bethany),  "He  shall  rise  again." — But  how? 
Changed,  transfigured,  glorified   in  an   elevation  above 


TEE    MORTAL    IMMORTALIZED.       235 

all  earthly  tics  and  mortal  affections  ?  No !  Blessed  be 
God,  No.  "Your  Brother  shall  rise  again."  Notwith- 
standing all  the  mysterious  processes  of  death  and  the 
Resurrection,  in  the  fullness  of  his  beautiful  and  earnest 
love,  he  shall  rise  again  truly  " your  brother''''  still.  And 
so  is  it  ever!  Death  annihilates  no  pure  affection  wherein 
a  Christian  heart  rejoices.  The  waves  of  the  dark  river 
obliterate  no  dear  name  from  the  memory.  "  The  water 
of  life  "  is  no  Lethe  of  forgetfulness.  The  very  names 
God's  children  bear  on  earth  are  written  in  the  Lamb's 
Book  of  Life,  and  shall  be  theirs  as  well  in  "the  many 
mansions "  forever.  And  all  the  influences  of  that 
higher  life,  strengthening  the  soul  for  a  fellowship  with 
the  crowned  creatures  of  eternity,  shall  only  deepen 
within  its  chambers  of  imagery  these  earthly  and  mortal 
pictures  of  the  heart. 

This,  then,  in  short,  in  its  application  to  the  whole  com- 
plex human  nature,  is  the  text's  first  truth — Death  does 
not  destroy  nor  mutilate  the  mortal.  The  creature, 
emerging  from  the  death-ruin,  and  at  last  perfected  in  the 
Resurrection,  will  enter  heaven,  no  new  creation,  no 
stranger-spirit — but  the  self-same  being  with  whom 
on  earth  and  in  time  we  took  sweet  counsel.  Man  with 
a  human  body  ;  man  with  a  human  intellect ;  man  with 
a  human  heart. 

But  the  text  has  another  lesson,  and  if  its  first 
truth  contradict  the  spiritual  notion  which  regards 
the  risen  man  as  not  merely  a  new  creature,  but  posi- 
tively another  creature,  its  second  truth  as  plainly  con- 
tradicts that  sensuous  notion  which  regards  the  heavenly 
state  as  no  more  than  the  earthly  state  perfected  and 
glorified. 


236      THE    MORTAL    IMMORTALIZED. 

This  mortal  must  not  merely  become  perfect  after  its 
kind,  but,  positively,  "  this  mortal  must  put  on  immor- 
tality." 

And,  if  these  words  do  beyond  question  teach  the  en- 
tire identity  of  the  nature,  they  do  as  surely  set  forth 
the  marvelous  and  all-glorious  transfiguration  of  that 
nature. 

The  word  "immortality,"  in  the  original  as  in  the  trans- 
lation, is  a  simple  negative.  -Though  the  inspired  penman 
had  in  his  celestial  rapture  gazed  upon  the  realities  of 
the  eternal  world — yet,  he  had  no  power  to  describe 
them.  He  says  they  were  "  unspeakable.''''  They  were 
things  for  which  in  this  earthly  life  human  thought  can 
have  no  image — human  language  no  name.  The  risen 
man,  though  essentially  the  same,  yet  is  to  be 
marvelously  strengthened  in  all  the  old  capacities  and 
faculties,  and  miraculously  gifted  with  new.  Of  such 
things  we  can  here  form  no  conception. 

We  have  in  the  mortal  five  bodily  senses.  We  know 
that  God  might  have  given  us  a  hundred.  But  of  a  new 
sense  we  can  have  no  idea ;  as  a  man  born  blind  can  not 
even  conceive  of  the  power  of  vision.  And  so  is  it 
of  the  new  faculties  which  come  with  immortality. 
And  while  we  remain  mortal,  inspiration  can  only  de- 
scribe the  future  in  negatives. 

Immortality — Oh,  the  glorious  word  !  The  same,  yet 
how  changed  !  The  body.  It  shall  be  the  same  body 
with  the  eye  to  see,  and  the  tongue  to  speak,  but  as  the 
sere  and  shapeless  seed  we  cast  into  the  earth  is  trans- 
figured into  the  queenly  flower,  so  great  shall  the 
change  be.  With  what  new  senses  and  new  organs  it 
may  be  furnished  God  hath  not  told  us.     In  this  very 


TEE    MORTAL     IMMORTALIZED.      237 

chapter  Paul  seems  struggling  under  the  burden  of  the 
magnificent  description  : — "  It  is  sown  in  corruption — it 
is  raised  in  incorruption"  And  what  notion  can  we 
form  of  incorruptible  matter, — of  an  organism  positively- 
immaculate  ;  no  more  liable  to  disease  or  decay — immu- 
table, as  if  pervaded  with  the  Divine  Essence. 

"It  is  sown  in  dishonor,  it  is  raised  in  glory.''''  The 
body  which  we  here  were  taught  to  regard  as  a  house  of 
leprosy,  and  all  its  senses  instruments  of  temptation,  to  be 
reconstructed  into  a  palace  of  the  higher  life — positively 
fashioned  like  Christ's  glorious  body !  "  It  is  sown  in 
weakness  it  is  raised  in  power"  This  poor,  imperfect 
instrument  of  the  intellect,  requiring  constant  care  lest  it 
be  injured  by  the  using,  itself  changed  into  a  mighty  and 
imperishable  engine  wherewith  to  work  out  unwearied 
the  grand  ministries  of  eternity  !  Yea — and  as  of  Paul, 
gave  in  a  single  word  the  explanation  of  the  whole  mar- 
vel— he  adds — "It  is  sown  a  natural  body,  it  is  raised  a 
spiritual  body."  Its  material  elements  so  etherealized 
and  refined  that  it  passes  out  of  mere  physical  condi- 
tions— no  longer  controlled  by  material  inertia  and  im- 
penetrability and  attraction,  but  (like  Christ's  raised 
body,  which  could  pass  closed  doors  and  float  up  to  the 
firmament)  itself  the  veiy  equipment  of  the  soul  when  it 
would  explore  the  mysteries  of  creation  and  traverse  im- 
mensity in  adoring  contemplation.  Thus  marvelous  the 
transfiguration  even  of  our  physical  nature.  This  poor 
mortal  body  clothed  upon  with  immortality  ! 

And,  when  we  ascend  to  the  higher  human  functions, 
how  feeble  seem  all  present  conceptions  of  the  reality. 
If  the  dwelling-place  be  thus  glorified,  what  a  transfig- 
uration must  await  the  spirit-inhabitant.     This  intellect 


238      THE    MORTAL    IMMORTALIZED. 

of  man,  how  it  sometimes  towers  and  triumphs  even  as 
mortal.  What  discoveries  it  hath  made  !  What  obsta- 
cles it  hath  overcome  !  Along  what  great  paths  it  has 
traveled !  What  wonderful  works  it  hath  done !  Mil- 
ton's song !  Why,  it  seemed  almost  an  angelic  harp  he 
swept !  Newton's  march  through  the  universe — it  did 
seem  like  the  old  prophet's  in  a  chariot  of  fire.  Yet  all 
this  was  the  mortal.  The  doings  of  the  cradled  child 
with  its  playthings.  And  who  shall  tell  us,  then,  of  the 
child's  manhood — of  that  coming  transfiguration  when 
"  the  mortal  mind  shall  put  on  immortality ;"  of  the  great 
thoughts  we  shall  think,  and  the  raptures  we  shall  feel, 
and  wondrous  works  we  shall  perform,  when,  with  facul- 
ties for  knowledge  and  capacities  for  happiness  immensely 
surpassing  any  thing  of  which  we  can  now  conceive,  we 
shall  ascend  into  that  brighter  and  eternal  life  ?  Verily, 
it  is  a  transcendent  and  enrapturing  thought — that  this 
mortal  mind  shall  put  on  immortality. 

But  beyond  it,  and  even  more  precious  and  glorious,  is 
the  truth  in  its  application  to  our  emotional  nature.  For 
herein,  after  all,  consists  man's  true  grandeur.  And  unto 
his  heart  rather  than  to  his  head  shall  be  accorded  the 
loftiest  prizes  of  eternity  !  And  to  think  of  the  human 
heart  (while  unchanged  in  all  its  gentle,  blessed,  earthly 
affections)  putting  on  immortality,  is  the  highest  concep- 
tion we  can  form  of  man's  kingship  and  priesthood  in  the 
city  of  God. 

And  yet  this  last  great  bliss  shall  be  ours !  While  it 
is  a  gross  error  to  think  of  the  affections  as  left  behind 
us  at  death,  and  love's  memories  as  lost  in  an  impersonal 
and  purely  spiritual  being — and  while  we  are  not  to  sup- 
pose that  in  heaven  even  the  supreme  love  to  God  is  so 


THE    MORTAL    IMMORTALIZED.      239 

to  absorb  all  our  affections  that  other  relationships  will 
be  ignored;  yet  it  is  a  grosser  error  to  suppose  that 
aught  of  the  imperfect  or  carnal  goes  with  the  human 
heart  to  its  immortal  sphere.  Our  love  even  for  each 
other  -will  not  be  what  it  is  here.  Very  much  of  the 
present  form  and  fashion  of  social  life  will  fall  off — as 
the  exuviae  of  insects  rising  from  the  dust  to  purer  and 
brighter  fellowship  on  wings  and  in  sunshine. 

We  shall  not  be  selfish  nor  sensuous  in  heaven.  We 
shall  not  distrust  nor  deceive  one  another  in  heaven. 
We  shall  not  think  unkindly  nor  speak  slanderously 
of  each  other  in  heaven  !  and  those  will  be  social 
circles  gloriously  transformed,  where  a  love  pure  as  the 
angel's  and  unselfish  as  God's  shall  bind  heart  to  heart 
with  ties  which  death  can  not  breathe  upon.  And  it  will 
be  a  rapturous  experience  that  baptism  of  the  human 
heart  with  the  living  water — that  induement  of  these 
mortal  loves  with  the  pomp  of  immortality. 

But  the  text  teaches  more  than  this.  There  is  intima- 
tion here  of  the  soul's  introduction  to  higher  companion- 
ship. We  shall  understand  then  how  God's  great  uni- 
verse, with  all  its  systems  and  constellations  and  clus- 
ters, is  indeed  only  one  great  family  mansion ;  and  all 
orders  of  the  higher  life,  only  one  blessed  social  circle  ; 
and  all  eternal  realities  only  spheres  and  scenes  for  the 
purified  affections ;  and  heaven  itself  only  the  palace 
and  throne-room  for  the  mortal  love  that  hath  put  on 
immortality  ! 

And  this  is  our  highest  conception  of  the  true  heaven- 
ly blessedness.  For  fair  as  will  be  the  risen  body  when 
fashioned  like  unto  Christ's  glorious  body ;  and  won- 
drous as  may  be  the  attributes  of  the  risen  spirit  en- 


240      TEE    MORTAL    IMMORTALIZED. 

throned  amid  the  high  things  of  immensity  and  eternity, 
yet  better  than  all  is  this  thought  of  these  earthly  affec- 
tions  lifted  unto  the  heavenly! — the  pomp  and  power  of 
immortality  round  the  human  heart  ! 

For  such  an  experience  we  are  looking.  We  are 
"  mortal "  now ;  we  shall  "  put  on  the  immortality  !"  and 
how  grand  and  solemn  things  earth  and  time  should  seem 
to  us — and  how,  as  through  dissolving  vapor,  should  flash 
ever  on  faith's  eye  the  great  prizes  of  the  after-life  ! 

We  stand  this  hour  on  the  border  line  of  these  tremen- 
dous transformations  !  The  wings  are  already  stirring 
under  the  film  of  the  chrysalis  ! 

The  imprisoned  bird  is  waxing  strong  to  rend  the 
wires  and  soar  to  the  sunshine  ! 

The  great  earthquake  is  rolling  back  the  stone  and 
loosing  the  seal  from  the  grave  of  the  redeemed  mortal. 
And  presently  shall  the  things  that  eye  hath  not  seen, 
nor  ear  heard,  nor  the  heart  of  man  conceived — be 
around  us  and  upon  us,  as  a  rapturous  life  and  experi- 
ence. "This  corruption  shall  have  put  on  ineorruption" 
— "  this  mortal  shall  have  put  on  immortality.'1'' 


A  SPECTACLE  TO  ANGELS. 


"  We  are  a  spectacle  to  angels." — I.  Corinthians,-  iv.  9. 

"We  separate  these  words  from  their  connection,  as 
teaching  an  independent  and  important  truth.  Although 
referring  specially  to  apostolic  life,  they  imply  that  all 
human  life  is  watched  by  the  angels.  Our  version  gives 
us  hardly  the  full  force  of  the  passage.  In  the  original  it 
is  dearpov — rendered  rightly  in  the  margin — "  a  The- 
atre." The  reference  being  to  the  ancient  amphitheatre 
— the  floor  of  which,  called  the  arena,  was  surrounded 
by  circular  seats  capable  of  containing  many  thousands 
of  spectators.  Here  the  trained  athlete  contended  for 
the  prize  in  the  ancient  games.  On  such  an  arena  Paul 
repx-esents  himself  as  acting,  while  the  angelic  host  look 
down  from  their  seats  as  "  a  great  cloud  of  witnesses." 
In  its  widest  reference  the  text  teaches,  that  in  this 
sense,  our  world  is  a  theatre  or  arena,  whereon  men 
act  their  various  parts,  as  in  a  drama,  "  a  spectacle  to 
angels."  And  this  thought  is  at  one  with  all  Bible  testi- 
mony. It  teaches  that  from  the  first  our  planet  has  been 
an  object  of  absorbing  interest  to  all  spiritual  beings. 
It  was  so,  perhaps,  before  the  creation  of  man.  The 
fancy  of  the  scientist  may  involve  a  great  truth. 
He  supposed  that,  when  there  had  been  revolt  in 
11 


242        A    SPECTACLE    TO    ANGELS. 

heaven,  in  the  old  geologic  eras,  this  world,  in  a  half-cha- 
otic state,  received  Lucifer  and  his  angels  as  a  prison- 
house — that  here  they  were  witnesses  to  its  slow  progress 
into  a  human  dwelling-place,  watching  with  malignant 
hate  man's  first  happiness,  achieving  with  malignant  joy 
his  apostasy,  and  overwhelmed  at  last  with  malignant 
anguish  by  his  triumphant  redemption. 

There  seems  intimation  of  something  like  this  in  the 
first  prophecy  of  the  Bible,  where,  in  the  curse  pro- 
nounced upon  the  old  serpent, — "  Dust  shalt  thou  eat  all 
the  days  of  thy  life," — it  would  seem  that  Satan  was  no 
longer  permitted  to  wander  through  the  universe,  but 
was  restrained  to  the  poor  planet  he  had  attempted  to 
ruin,  compelled  to  witness  the  progress  of  redemption, 
and  to  undergo  final  defeat — his  head  utterly  bruised 
under  the  heel  of  the  seed  of  the  woman.  There  is 
surely  nothing  improbable  in  the  thought  that  the  holy 
angels  watched  the  evolution  of  Divine  Wisdom  in  cre- 
ation— matter  wedded  to  life,  and  life  rising  into  intellect, 
until  over  the  glorious  consummation  "the  morning  stars 
sang  together,  and  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy." 

But  imagination  apart,  it  is  a  matter  of  revelation, 
that  since  the  creation  of  man  earth  has  been,  in  the  full 
meaning  of  the  text,  "  a  spectacle  to  angels.''''  And  a  spec- 
tacle every  way  worthy  their  consideration.  God  seems 
to  have  intended  this  planet  as  an  arena  for  exhibiting 
moral  character  in  all  its  varieties.  The  drama  of 
human  life  has  been  cast  in  three  great  moral  acts. 

1.  A  race  unfallen  and  sinless. 

2.  A  race  apostate  and  accursed. 

3.  A  race  redeemed  and  regenerate — and  in  transition 
to  glory. 


A    SPECTACLE    TO    ANGELS.         243 

And  as  displaying  the  Divine  attributes,  the  angels 
are  represented  as  bending  down  to  study  all  of  them. 
The  first  scene  was  one  of  blissful  and  holy  human  life. 
And  endowed,  as  the  first  man  was,  with  every  power  of 
perseverance  in  holiness,  and  plied  with  every  motive  to 
retain  it,  and  radiant  as  the  earth  was  with  all  material 
loveliness,  and  the  positive  glory  of  the  revealed  and  com- 
muning Godhead ;  that  first  blessed  act  in  the  drama  of 
human  life  was  fittingly  "a  spectacle  to  angels" 

But  the  drama  changed — the  second  scene  is  a  world 
apostate  and  accursed.  An  exhibition  is  now  to  be  made 
of  the  terrible  nature  of  sin,  as  seen  alike  in  the  malice 
of  the  tempter,  and  the  misery  of  the  tempted.  And 
behold  !  over  a  world  blasted  and  blackened,  and  beneath 
skies  gathered  as  a  thick  curtain  over  the  face  of  Divine 
Love,  man  walked  a  sinner  on  a  befitting  stage.  And 
when  you  consider  the  whole  plot  and  progress  of  the 
drama — all  the  exhibitions  of  moral  character  under  this 
fearful  inspiration  of  sin — man  with  no  light  but  nature's 
— man  with  the  uncertain  light  of  tradition — man  amid 
the  abominations  of  false  worship — man  under  the  cloud- 
ed glories  of  the  dispensations  of  patriarch  and  Levite — 
man  amid  the  full  Gospel  light  of  the  risen  sun  of  right- 
eousness— the  whole  wondrous  development  of  redemp- 
tion, from  the  first  promise  at  the  gate  of  a  lost  para- 
dise, down  through  those  ages  of  antediluvian  depravity, 
down  through  all  those  slowly  evolving  ritualisms  to  the 
tragic  scene  of  Calvary,  down  through  all  the  Gospel's 
subsequent  triumphs — when,  I  say,  you  consider  all  this 
progress  and  development  of  redemption — justification  by 
the  Divine  Son — sanctification  by  the  Divine  Spirit — man, 
a  willing  captive  to  the  great  destroyer — man,  a  straggler 


244        A    SPECTACLE    TO    ANGELS. 

in  the  armor  of  God  against  all  the  powers  of  darkness — 
then  this  second  act  in  the  drama  of  human  life  seems  not 
unworthily  "  a  spectacle  to  angels.''''  But  even  upon  this 
scene  of  sinfulness  and  suffering  is  the  curtain  to  fall. 
And  when  it  rises  again,  it  will  be  upon  an  arena  and  an 
act  even  worthier  angelic  regard.  Earth  is  not  always 
to  remain  a  theatre  of  conflict  with  evil.  Even  now  the 
creature  groans  for  deliverance  from  this  unwilling  bond- 
age. And  it  shall  be  delivered.  Out  of  the  wreck  and 
ruin  of  the  present  system  of  things,  as  a  platform  fitted 
for  the  manifestation  of  triumphant  holiness,  shall  come 
forth  the  "  new  earth  wherein  dwelleth  righteousness." 
And  then  shall  the  moral  be  even  fairer  than  the  mate- 
rial— for  the  race,  re-established  in  holiness,  shall  walk 
the  earth  in  the  development  and  exhibition  of  excel- 
lencies hitherto  undreamed  of;  and  then,  at  least,  the 
ever-varying  scenes  of  a  drama  wherein  a  redeemed  race 
act  upon  a  redeemed  world  will  seem  worthily  "  a  specta- 
cle to  angels" 

Now  this  is  the  general  truth  which  the  text  sets  forth. 
But  it  is  with  its  special  and  practical  application  to  our- 
selves as  individuals  Ave  are  at  present  concerned.  Not 
more  true  was  it  of  the  apostle  than  of  every  one  of  us, 
that  in  all  the  acts  of  mortal  life  we  are  moving  on  this 
earth  "  a  spectacle  to  angels."  It  is  a  plain  truth  of  rev- 
elation, that  these  glorious  beings  are  ever  around  us. 
They  are  represented  not  only  as  "ministering  unto  the 
heirs  of  salvation,"  but  as  watchful  of  even  their  seem- 
ingly most  trivial  interests,  "bearing  them  up,  lest  they 
dash  their  foot  against  a  stone."  So  they  walk  with  us 
by  the  way  ;  they  sit  with  us  in  the  dwelling  they  over- 
shadow us  with  their  wings  in  the  busy  day,  and  keep 


A    SPECTACLE    TO    ANGELS.        245 

watch  over  us  in  the  still  chamber,  through  the  solemn 
night.  And  assuming  this  truth  as  no  poetic  fancy,  but 
as  plainly  revealed  in  God's  Word,  let  us  consider  its 
practical  application.     And 

First — For  encouragement  and  consolation  amid  the 
trials  of  life.  This  is  the  application  Paul  gives  it  in 
the  context.  Terribly  ironical  as  the  description  is,  it 
has  yet  evidently  the  meaning  of  a  contrast  between  his 
own  condition  and  that  of  the  Corinthians.  While  they 
were  "strong"  and  "honorable,"  "and  reigned  as  kings," 
he  was  appointed  of  God,  for  wise  purposes,  to  "hunger" 
and  " thirst,"  and  "nakedness,"  and  "trials,"  and  "perse- 
cutions," to  end  only  in  death.  And  it  is  as  enduring 
all  these  sufferings,  he  here  speaks  of  himself  as  a  spec- 
tacle to  angels  !  And  while  this  is  not  his  chief  thought, 
it  is  surely  implied  here  that  by  the  faith,  and  patience, 
and  fortitude  wherewith  he  was  enduring  "his  great 
fight  of  affliction,"  he  was  "adorning  the  Gospel"  in  the 
sight  of  men  and  angels— And  a  most  consoling  thought 
it  is.  To  comparatively  few  does  God  afford  opportu- 
nity of  actively  doing  great  things  for  Christ,  but  unto 
all  come  abundant  occasions  of  exhibiting  the  power 
of  grace  in  suffering  ;  And,  as  set  forth  in  the  text,  in 
its  tendency  to  honor  God,  the  quiet  virtue  seems  to 
have  the  advantage  over  the  splendid  achievement. 
For  it  is  not  in  any  of  his  own  heroic  acts,  of  oratory  or 
miracle  working,  that  Paul  represents  himself  as  especially 
observed  by  the  angels,  but  in  those  hours  of  meekness 
and  lowliness,  when  he  was  persecuted,  and  defamed, 
and  made  the  offscouring  of  all  things,  and  appointed 
unto  death.     And  so  it  is  always. 

The  especial  blessing  of  our  Lord  in  his  sermon  on  the 


216        A   SPECTACLE    TO  ANGELS. 

Mount  was  upon  the  gentler,  and  not  the  grander  vir- 
tues. The  meek,  the  merciful,  the  poor  in  spirit,  the 
patient  Tinder  persecution — upon  these,  rather  than 
kings  and  conquerors,  and  mighty  men,  fell  those  beati- 
tudes. And  even  in  his  own  life,  more  truly  Divine  does 
he  seem  in  his  hours  of  humiliation,  enduring  the  Cross, 
despising  the  shame,  than  in  those  kingly  acts,  when 
purifying  the  Temple  and  transfigured  on  Tabor !  And 
so  we  can  all  do  as  much  for  God  and  the  Gospel  by 
patient  suffering  as  by  active  obedience.  To  the  man 
laid  aside  from  public  Christian  duty — the  rich  man  sunk 
into  poverty — the  eloquent  man  struck  into  silence — to 
the  sick-bed  of  the  poor,  forgotten  Christian — to  the 
retreat  of  the  forsaken  and  persecuted  believer,  come  in 
their  invisible  glory  these  heavenly  spirits;  and  if  there 
they  behold  a  human  heart  abiding  in  patient  faith  the 
chastisement  of  the  Father — a  human  soul,  submissively 
as  the  Master,  enduring  the  Cross,  despising  the  shame; 
then,  as  exhibiting  the  power  of  the  Gospel,  greater  good 
may  be  done  unto  men,  and  greater  glory  come  unto 
God,  than  by  the  most  splenlid  achievement.  And  a 
precious  truth  it  is.  In  a  life  wherein  so  few  occasions 
are  ours  to  do  great  things  for  God,  and  whose  great  law 
is  suffering,  it  is  blessed  to  think  that  it  is  especially 
when  in  sorrow,  and  agony,  and  death,  we  are  "a  spec- 
tacle to  angels."  They  come  on  their  bright  wings  to 
our  desolate  homes,  our  darkened  chambers,  our  sick-beds, 
and  death-beds,  and  every  whisper  of  submissive  Chris- 
tian love  sounds  out  as  a  grand  hallelujah  to  the  Infinite 
Glory,  and  every  gentle  tear  in  the  eye  of  faith  flashes  as 
a  gem  of  immense  price  in  the  diadem  of  their  God. 
Passing  this,  consider   this  truth.      Secondly — As  a 


A    SPECTACLE    TO    ANGELS.        247 

ground  of  exhortation.    As  herein  represented,  we  are  all 

awalking  earth  as  a  theatre — actors  in  a  drama — "a  specta- 
cle to  angels."  And  how  are  we  acting  ?  You  may  be 
this  day  an  impenitent  man ;  and,  if  so,  the  part  you  are 
acting  is  one  solemn  beyond  all  description  or  conception 
— the  part  of  an  imperiled  man  with  an  immortal  sold  to 
save!  For  just  such  acting  is  this  life-stage  fitted.  A 
dark  and  disquieting  world  it  is  at  the  best.  And  though 
beautiful  forms  of  temptation  have  come  forth  to  beguile 
you,  yet,  the  while,  things  to  terrify  from  evil  have  been 
with  and  around  you,  even  nature  alarms  you — thunders, 
utter  their  voices,  and  the  earth  quakes,  and  graves  open 
at  your  feet— And  then  revelation  adds  to  these  terrors. 
Oh,  what  solemn  scenery  it  arranges  around  you.  Here 
Sinai  with  its  fire,  and  there  Calvary  with  its  Cross,  and 
beyond,  as  seen  in  solemn  perspective,  a  death-bed — a 
resurrection — a  judgment-seat — eternity,  now  dark  with 
nameless  gloom,  now  bright  with  wondrous  glory  !  And 
on  a  stage  like  this,  with  all  heaven  gazing  earnestly  and 
ever,  ai-e  you  thinking,  speaking,  acting  for  eternity  ! 
And  now  tell  me,  you  that  live  as  if  this  earth  were  to 
remain  forever  your  abiding-place,  and  put  away  fear,  and 
restrain  prayer  as  verily  as  if  there  were  no  God,  and  no 
judgment,  and  no  immortality — sporting  with  life  and 
soul  and  salvation  as  a  child  with  the  baubles  it  breaks 
— and  tell  me  if  yoii  are  acting  well  your  part  before 
this  great  cloud  of  witnesses  !  Have  you  won  the  ap- 
plauses of  that  glorious  audience  ?  Hath  it  not  been 
rather  with  gestures  of  disproval — with  whispers  of 
astonishment  and  indignation,  they  have  watched  you 
as  acting  the  part  of  a  man  with  an  imperiled  soul  to 
save,  you  have  walked  this  darkened  world  "  a  specta- 


248        A    SPECTACLE    TO    ANGELS. 

cle  to  angels."  Or  you  may  be  to-day  a  true  child  of 
God ;  and  then  the  part  you  are  acting,  if  less  terrible, 
is  scarcely  less  solemn  :  for  it  is  that  of  a  redeemed  man 
in  the  service  of  the  Redeemer.  In  reference  to  this  very 
thought,  the  writer  of  the  text  repeatedly  speaks  of  the 
believer  as  having  "put  on  Christ,''''  %.  e.,  in  language 
figurative  of  the  drama — assumed  his  character — as  a 
tragedian  assumes  that  of  the  hero  he  personates.  Thus, 
to  "  put  on  "  or  personate  the  Lord  Jesus  is  the  part  you 
are  to  act  on  this  theatre  of  life,  as  "  a  spectacle  to 
angels.'''' 

And  for  such  acting,  also,  is  the  world-stage  fitted.  For 
it  is  the  self-same  world  wherein  he  personally  acted. 
The  same  earth  lies  at  your  feet,  and  the  same  skies  bend 
over  you.  The  same  sinful  and  suffering  humanity  is 
ever  around  you.  The  same  realities  of  eternity  rise  in 
transparencies  beyond  you  ;  and  the  same  audience  of 
angels  who  watched  him  in  the  garden,  and  on  the  cross, 
are  always  observing  you.  And  tell  me,  if  you  seem  unto 
yourselves,  acting  your  magnificent  part  well?  As  you 
remember  your  past  life,  and  think  of  your  slothfulness 
and  sin,  and  your  conformity  to  the  world,  and  how  few 
words  you  have  spoken,  and  how  few  works  you  have 
done  for  the  salvation  of  lost  men ;  and  how  little  you 
have  sacrificed  and  suffei*ed  for  your  Master ;  how,  in 
short,  the  seeming  law  of  your  daily  life  has  been  a 
search  and  a  struggle  for  the  wealth  and  pleasure  and 
honor  of  this  perishing  world  !  And  then,  in  the  con- 
trast, think  of  the  daily  life  of  your  great  pattern — how 
it  was  all  a  service  of  God  and  man,  living  ever  as  if 
earth  were  a  stranger-land,  and  heaven  the  eternal  home, 
-how  meek  he  was,  how   forgiving,  how   humble,  how 


A    SPECTACLE    TO    ANGELS.        249 

gentle;  how  he  counted  not  his  life  dear  unto  him  that 
he  might  do  the  will  of  him  that  sent  him,  but  bowed 
himself  uncomplainingly  to  the  betrayal  and  the  bruising, 
and  the  crown  of  thorns,  and  the  cross;  yea,  to  the  hiding 
of  his  loving  Father's  face,  and  the  death  of  mysterious 
and  immeasurable  anguish,  for  the  salvation  of  sinners 
and  the  redemption  of  a  world — as  you  think  thus  of 
the  whole  style  of  his  earthly  life,  tell  me  if  these  same 
angels,  watching  you  as  they  watched  him,  have  fixed  on 
you  admiring  eyes,  and  lifted  up  applauding  voices,  saying 
in  regard  to  every  act  of  this  great  life-drama,  "  Well 
done  good  and  faithful, — that  is  just  like  Christ.'''' 

Ah,  my  hearers,  whether  penitent  or  impenitent — infi- 
del or  believer,  your  past  lives  have  been  parts  of  a  great 
drama,  thus  witnessed  by  all  the  crowned  creatures  of 
eternity.  And  have  you  acted  it  well,  as  a  "  spectacle  to 
angels  ?  "  Surely  our  lives  should  henceforth  be  better 
representations  of  the  solemn  parts  set  before  us. 

Meanwhile,  there  is  another  aspect  in  which  the  text 
is  exhortatory.  As  thus  a  spectacle  to  angels,  it  may  be 
said,  in  one  sense,  we  can  choose  the  parts  we  are  to  act 
in  their  presence.  All  unknown  as,  in  the  main,  is  the 
future  history  of  us  all,  and  kindly  hidden  as  are  the 
scenes  wherein,  even  on  the  morrow,  we  shall  individu- 
ally appear  in  this  drama  of  life,  yet  there  are  some 
things  common  and  certain  to  us  all,  and  in  regard  of 
them  we  can  choose  at  least  our  own  style  of  acting. 
And  it  becomes  us  to  consider  them  well  ere  the  curtain 
rise,  and  we  stand  in  their  midst.  Take  them  in  their 
order : — 

1.  A  death-scene! — A  darkened  chamber.  A  couch 
shaken  convulsively.  A  company  of  heart-broken  rela- 
11* 


250        A    SPECTACLE    TO    ANGELS. 

tives  keeping  watch  by  the  beloved  and  departing  one. 
Such  the  scene.  And  for  an  actor — behold!  A  poor 
lover  of  pleasure,  who  put  his  eternity  carefully  away 
from  him,  living  only  for  this  world.  Now  witness  his 
acting  as  it  seems  unto  angels.  Behold  !  That  wan  face  ; 
that  wild  and  faded  eye ;  that  convulsed  framework ; 
those  feeble  hands,  lifted  as  to  repel  some  shape  of  ter- 
ror. Listen  !  That  sob ;  that  cry  of  anguish :  "  Oh,  do 
not  let  me  die !"  "  I  can  not  die !"  "  I  rejected  the 
Saviour  !"     "  I  am  lost,  lost,  lost !" 

2.  The  next  is  a  judgment-scene ! — The  heavens  and 
the  earth  have  passed  away  from  the  awful  face  of  God. 
The  great  white  throne  is  set.  The  books  are  opened ; 
and  the  risen  dead,  small  and  great,  stand  before  God  ; 
and  around,  in  solemn  witness,  are  gathered  all  spiritual 
creatures.  And  again  this  poor  worldling  appears  upon 
the  stage,  "  a  spectacle  to  angels."  And  see  it,  that  look 
of  hopeless  anguish  ;  that  convulsion  ;  that  glance  above, 
before,  around,  as  if  for  some  avenue  of  escape,  as  there 
falls  on  the  shrinking  sense  the  appalling  sentence — 
"  Depart ! — depart  /" 

3.  Tlie  last  scene  is  in  eternity ! — Go  ponder  it  as  pic- 
tured in  God's  solemn  book.  I  know  not  what  it  means 
— "  the  smoke  of  the  torment,  the  blackness  of  darkness 
for  ever  and  ever."  Thanks  unto  God  that  the  curtain 
lifts  not  yet  from  the  immortality  of  ungodliness  !  But 
to  one  standing  close  to  that  curtain,  as  the  light  of  rev- 
elation shines  through  as  a  transparency,  there  are  seen 
strange  and  shadowy  things,  there  are  heard  strange 
and  startling  sounds,  giving  assurance  to  us  at  least,  that 
the  drama  darkens  in  that  last  eternal  act,  and  becomes 
terribly  tragic  as  "  a  spectacle  to  angels." 


A   SPECTACLE  TO  ANGELS.         251 

This  is  one  style  of  acting.  Consider,  in  contrast,  tlie 
other  !  The  same  stage — the  same  scenery — but  all  else 
different ! 

1.  Again  the  death-scene! — The  same  darkened  cham- 
ber. The  same  group  of  weeping  friends.  But  how 
changed  the  action  !  True,  the  poor  body  is  wasted  and 
wan  in  the  sore  conflict.  And  yet,  as  if  the  pinnacles  of 
the  celestial  city  were  bursting  on  the  sight !  See  the 
radiant  fire  in  the  eye!  the  rapturous  smile,  on  the  lip  I 
Hear  those  words,  feeble,  yet  joyous  in  faith  and  love : 
"  Though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death,  I  will  fear  no  evil,  for  thou  art  with  me !"  Behold 
that  fixed  look  heavenward,  as  the  ransomed  spirit 
spreads  wing  for  its  place  in  the  many  mansions  ! 

2.  The  same  scene  of  judgment ! — The  same  great 
white  throne — with  the  open  books — the  assembled  uni- 
verse— the  glorified  Immanuel !  And  again  a  man  walk- 
ing that  sublime  stage,  "  a  spectacle  to  angels."  But 
the  action  different !  See  how  joyously  that  lifted  eye 
drinks  in  the  glory  of  the  Redeemer's  face.  Note  that 
look  of  triumph,  that  cry  of  rapture,  at  the  approving 
sentence :  "  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  enter  into 
the  joy  of  thy  Lord  I" 

3.  Again,  a  scene  laid  in  eternity. — But  here,  stage, 
scenery,  acting,  all  different.  We  have  no  thought  to 
depict  them.  Even  inspired  imagination  could  only 
labor,  overborne,  when  speaking  of  the  shapes  of  sur- 
passing loveliness,  and  the  sounds  of  surpassing  har- 
mony, the  thrones  of  power,  the  diadems  of  glory,  the 
palaces  and  temples  and  triumphs  of  heaven!  The  cur- 
tain lifts  not  yet  from  the  platform  whereon  the  redeemed 
and  risen  mau  walks  in  the  presence  of  God.     But  to  one 


252  A    SPECTACLE    TO    AiVGELS. 

approaching  that  concealing  veil  there  will  flash  a  lustre 
as  of  uncreated  glory,  and  sound  cadences  as  of  seraphic 
voices  in  rapturous  hallelujah  to  fill  the  deadest  soul  with 
aspiration  to  have  part  in  so  sublime  a  drama. 

Such,  shortly,  are  the  two  styles  of  human  action  on 
the  great  theatre  of  life.  And  for  each  of  us,  just  behind 
this  massive  curtain,  are  stage  and  scenery  being  pre- 
pared !  And  we  are  here  to  choose,  each  for  himself,  the 
style  of  his  performance.  And  now,  tell  me  how  you 
will  act  your  solemn  part — O  immortal  man  !  as — •"  a 
spectacle  to  angels.'''1 

Oh,  that  God  would  give  power  to  this  picture  of  the 
text — "«  theatre  unto  the  angels.''''  Oh,  that  some  spirit, 
with  a  pencil  dipped  in  heaven's  own  light,  would  work 
the  scene  fittingly  on  the  canvas, — a  fire-doomed  earth, 
canopied  by  a  darkened  heaven,  and  as  on  a  great  stage 
— the  mortal-immortal  man  acting  his  solemn  part — a 
spectacle  to  angels  ;  and  we  could  hang  that  picture  up  in 
our  places  of  business  and  pleasure,  in  counting-room,  and 
workshop,  and  social  circle,  and  sanctuary ;  and  through  it 
should  ever  blaze  eternal  light  with  a  meaning  of  heaven  ; 
and  all  things  visible  and  earthly  be  colored  by  the  sol- 
emn illumination  ;  then  we  should  all  go  forth  to  act  our 
parts  differently.  While  here  in  the  flesh  we  should  seem 
scarcely  of  the  world,  and  presently  when  the  mortal  act 
is  ended,  and  this  gay  drapery  of  life  falls  off,  and  the 
world  stands  revealed  a  cold  skeleton,  then  ascending  to 
the  higher  and trans-sepnlchral  life,  to  act  nobler  parts  in 
the  service  of  the  Master,  with  the  palms  we  here 
gathered  for  his  mediatorial  triumph,  and  the  stars  we 
have  set  in  our  crowns  of  rejoicing,  standing  in  our 
places  near  the  eternal  throne,  we  shall  look  up  adoringly 


A     SPECTACLE     TO    ANGELS.        253 

into  his  beloved  face,  and  lay  trophy  and  diadem  at  his 
burning  feet,  in  glory  and  rapture  and  love,  "  a  spec- 
tacle unto  angels!" 


THANKFULNESS. 


"  Be  thankful." — Psalm  c.  4. 

"We  have  just  read  in  your  hearing  the  proclamation 
of  the  executive,  enjoining  upon  this  commonwealth 
the  observance  of  its  accustomed  day  of  annual  thanks- 
giving. But,  much  as  we  like  the  custom,  we  are  yet 
disposed  to  doubt,  whether  the  mere  appointment  of  the 
day,  with  all  its  ancestral  prestige  and  executive  sanc- 
tion, will  render  it  to  us  individually,  a  truly  religious 
festival ;  unless  by  solemn  meditation  we  are  prepared 
for  its  observance.  It  is  rather  an  easy  thing  to  omit  for 
half  a  day  our  ordinary  business ;  to  assemble,  in  God's 
house  for  rather  a  long  service  ;  and  then  retire  to  the 
enjoyment  of  rather  an  elaborate  dinner.  But  this,  we 
think,  is  not  performing  precisely  the  religious  duty  of 
thankfulness  and  thanksgiving.  And,  as  preparatory  to 
that  service,  we  propose,  at  present,  some  very  plain  and 
practical  observations  on  the  duty  in  general. 

The  exhortation  in  our  text — "  to  be  thankful " — in- 
cludes, of  course,  both  the  inner  emotion  and  its  outward 
expression, — 

A  Subjective  Thankfulness,  and 

An  Objective  Thanksgiving. 

Now,  I  need  hardly  define  the  word  "  Thankfulness." 


THANKFULNESS.  255 

It  is  already  in  its  last  analysis.  It  denotes  a  composite 
emotion,  whose  elements  are,  joy  for  a  gift,  and  love  for 
the  giver.  Differing  from  gratitude,  not  essentially,  but 
only  in  form.  The  one  being  necessarily,  a  feeling  only; 
the  other  that  feeling  both  existent  and  expressed. 

Passing  then  at  once  to  its  practical  and  personal  con- 
sideration. What  we  have  to  say  may  be  embraced,  if 
not  very  logically,  yet  we  trust  somewhat  profitably, 
under  these  three  divisions  : — 

The  Hinclerances. 

The  Helps,  and 

The  Reasons  of  Thanlfulness. 

Beginning  with  the  Hinclerances,  which  practically 
interfere  with  this  great  moral  and  Christian  duty,  we 
are  struck  with  surprise  that  there  should  be  any  such 
hinderances.  This  experience  and  expression  of  grati- 
tude for  Divine  favors,  has  its  foundation,  as  a  duty,  in 
the  very  nature  of  things.  For,  as  we  can  by  no  equiva- 
lent recompense  God  for  his  mercies,  it  seems  positively 
unnatural,  not  to  cherish  a  lively  sense  of  his  goodness, 
and  give  utterance  to  the  feeling  on  appropriate  occa- 
sions. Nevertheless,  in  this  as  in  many  another  good 
thing,  we  are  manifestly  hindered.  And  setting  ourselves 
to  understand  this  strange  thing,  unthank fulness,  we 
find,  to  our  surprise,  that  the  vice,  like  its  opposite  vir- 
tue, has  its  foundation  in  a  very  principle  of  our  nature. 

The  old  Saxon  word,  " Grrymetan"  whence  comes  our 
Anglo-Saxon,  "  to  grumble,"  expresses  only  an  original 
law  of  the  human  constitution.  For  analyzed  carefully, 
and  hope,  or  expectation  of  future  good,  will  be  found 
the  grand  element  of  the  exercise.  A  happy  feeling, 
indeed,  in  an  unfallen  spirit.     But  in  a  fallen,  resulting 


256  THANKFULNESS. 

in  dissatisfaction  with  the  present — and  thus  in  grum- 
bling. And  so  we  find  that  this  dissatisfaction  began 
even  in  Eden.  Eve  fretting,  fault-finding,  grumbling, 
about  the  forbidden  tree  in  the  midst  of  the  garden. 
And  thence  as  a  true  lineal  exercise  it  has  been  manifest 
in  all  her  descendants.  The  infant  in  its  mother's  arms 
— the  school-boy  on  his  way  to  school — the  husband- 
man at  the  weather — the  doctor  at  the  night-call — the 
merchant  about  the  markets — the  lawyer  about  retain- 
ing-fees — the  parson  about  his  salary.  Indeed  the  whole 
human  race  imitate  their  first  mother,  and  complain- 
ingly  grumble.  It  is  a  law  of  our  nature,  and  like  other 
laws  has  its  uses.  It  will  be  found,  upon  careful  exami- 
nation, that  even  the  bodily  exercises  of  crying  and 
groaning,  are  grand  operations  whereby  nature  mitigates 
and  allays  anguish.  A  physician  will  tell  you,  that  a 
patient  who  gives  free  course  to  these  natural  feelings, 
will  recover  sooner  from  accidents  and  operations,  than 
another,  who,  thinking  it  unmanly  to  cry  and  groan, 
represses  resolutely  all  such  manifestations.  He  will 
relate  cases,  Avhere  violent  cryings  and  roarings  have 
greatly  reduced  excited  pulses,  and  soothed  the  nervous 
system,  thus  preventing  or  allaying  fever,  and  insuring 
in  many  diseases  a  favorable  termination.  And  so  he 
rather  encourages  these  tears  and  groanings  in  patients 
while  undergoing  violent  surgical  operations.  And,  in 
regard  of  restless  and  hypochondriacal  subjects,  who 
will  always  be  under  medical  treatment,  he  knows  that 
they  can  do  nothing  better  for  themselves,  than  groan 
all  the  day,  and  cry  all  the  night. 

In  this   point  of  view  grumbling  is  medicinal ; — an 
ojjeration  whereby  nature  relieves  sorrow.     And  as  we 


THANKFULNESS.  257 

do  not  find  fault  with  tears,  no  more  should  we  find 
fault  with  querulous  words,  spoken  shortly  and  seasona- 
bly. They  are  escape-valves  of  anguish,  they  relieve 
sensibilities,  and  so  do  good  as  a  medicine.  Indeed,  he 
that  has  nothing  to  grumble  about  can  not  be  comforta- 
ble, because  he  has  nothing  to  complain  of,  and  therefore 
nothing  to  desire,  and  having  nothing  to  anticipate,  can 
never  be  happy. 

But  then  this  genial,  good-natured,  medicinal,  and  so 
beneficial  grumbling,  degenerates  almost  universally 
into  downright,  malignant,  everlasting  fault-finding ; 
and  then — like  all  medicine  taken  as  a  daily  aliment — it 
becomes  positively  hurtful.  It  impairs  the  freshness 
and  healthfulness  of  the  mind ;  induces  morbid,  rheu- 
matic, neuralgic  moods  of  thought ;  makes  the  man  a 
torture  to  himself,  and  a  curse  to  the  neighborhood  ; 
weakens  his  influence ;  destroys  his  character ;  renders 
him  a  wretch  here,  and  tends  inevitably  to  render  him 
Avretched  forever.  And  so,  although  we  find  this  root  of 
thanklessness  in  a  primal  law  of  our  nature,  yet  its  mani- 
festations result  from  various  things  which  we  have 
termed  obstacles  to  thankfulness.     Of  these  I  mention — 

First — The  habit  of  looking  too  much  at  other  people, 
and  too  little  at  ourselves.  Quite  manifest  is  it,  that  very 
much  of  our  discontent  arises  from  a  consideration  of 
our  neighbors.  Others  are  richer,  or  more  honorable, 
or  beautiful,  or  successful  than  ourselves — others  treat 
us  with  neglect,  or  injustice — others  are  guilty  of  mani- 
fest short-comings  or  overt  iniquities ;  and  so,  our  poor 
life-bark,  overladen  with  other  men's  wares,  labors  pain- 
fully on  the  seas,  signals  of  distress  flying  from  its  every 
mast,  and  the  sound  of  its  minute-guns  making  night  a 


258  THANKFULNESS. 

burden.  Whereas,  if  the  poor  man  would  go  into  his 
own  heart,  and  fling  overboard  all  but  his  own  peculiar 
cares  and  troubles,  and  sit  down  to  feast  on  the  rich 
viands  God  has  gathered  as  his  sea-stores,  then  his  light- 
ened and  relieved  bark  would  float  buoyantly  on  the 
waters,  and  answer  readily  her  helm,  and  with  glad 
songs  and  bright  skies  go  on  her  way  rejoicing.  But, 
then,  this  looking  too  much  at  the  things  of  others  is 
not  our  only  difliculty,  and  we  remark,  therefore, 

Secondly — That  in  looking  to  ourselves  we  are  accus- 
tomed to  let  the  mind  dwell  too  much  on  the  dark  side  of 
our  experience.  Rather  upon  what  toe  have  not,  than 
upon  ichat  toe  have.  Rather  upon  the  Divine  chastise- 
ment than  the  Divine  benefaction.  It  is  the  spots  upon 
the  sun  that  the  astronomer  talks  of.  It  is  when  under 
an  eclipse,  that  the  moon  and  stars  are  most  carefully 
observed.  It  is  the  one  river  with  the  cataract,  and  not 
the  thousand  rivers  with  their  unbroken  water-courses 
that  tourists  throng  to. 

In  contemplating  the  history  of  a  year,  it  is  impossible 
in  a  probationary  life,  that  it  should  have  brought  only 
uninterrupted  gladness ;  and  so,  the  thought  fastens  on 
the  fairer  things  that  might  have  been,  rather  than  the 
fair  things  that  have  been.  The  ten  thousand  daily 
blessings  wherewith  God  has  been  rounding  our  lives, 
are  lost  sight  of  in  the  occasional  clouds  of  difficulty  that 
may  have  checkered  our  pathway.  We  think  more  of 
the  one  thousand  dollars  lost,  than  of  the  twenty  thou- 
sand left  us.  More  of  the  one  month  of  sickness,  than 
the  eleven  months  of  health.  More  of  the  one  beloved 
friend  dead,  than  of  the  many  beloved  yet  living.  More 
of  the  mournful  silence  in  the  one  sepulchre,  than  of  all 


THANKFULNESS.  259 

the  sweet  voices  of  our  happy  households.  Whereas,  if 
just  reversing  this  process,  we  would  look  more  at  the 
bright  side  of  things — at  the  stars  that  are  not  eclipsed  ; 
at  the  bright  streams  that  are  not  broken  by  cataracts  ; 
at  the  profits  of  our  business,  and  not  at  its  losses ;  at 
the  seats  filled  at  the  board  and  hearth,  and  not  at  the 
seats  vacant ;  then  these  earthly  homes,  which  we  are 
filling  with  mourning,  and  over  whose  portals  we  have 
written  in  black  capitals,  "  Rooms  to  let  to  the  /Sorrows," 
would  flash  again  with  festal  lustres,  and  resound  with 
festal  songs  ;  and  seem  to  all  who  go  by,  the  sweet  and 
fair  homes  of  God's  happy,  thankful  children.  Nor  is 
this  indeed  the  whole  of  it,  for  observe — 

Thirdly — That  even  while  considering  our  mercies, 
there  is  a  habit  of  thought  which  hinders  our  thankful- 
ness. I  mean  that — of  regarding  the  first  gift  of  a  good 
thing  as  alone  demanding  gratitude,  and  its  subsequent 
preservation  as  a  natural  sequence.  Now  nature  is 
not  a  power  but  a  process.  Preservation  is  positively  a 
constant  creation.  And  so,  as  truly  as  if  it  were  done 
sensibly  and  immediately,  God  gives  us  a  new  sun  every 
morning,  and  hangs  new  stars  every  night  in  the  firma- 
ment ;  and  gives  us,  by  an  Almighty  act,  put  forth 
every  moment,  each  process  of  a  new  life,  and  each  adapta- 
tion and  blessedness  of  a  new  home  and  world.  In  other 
words,  we  think  only  of  the  added,  and  not  of  the  pre- 
served mercy — looking  upon  the  continued  possession 
of  old  blessings  as  resulting  from  the  stability  of  the 
sequences  of  nature,  and  only  upon  the  new  and  su- 
peradded blessing,  as  the  positive  and  direct  gift  of 
God.  And  what  we  want,  is  that  true  philosophic  faith 
which  sees  God  putting  forth  creative  power  in  every 


260  THANKFULNESS. 

hour's  preservation;  so  that  when  we  go  into  life's 
tabernacle,  and  see  how  carefully  it  has  been  builded, 
and  how  exquisitely  furnished,  till  it  looks  like  the 
dwelling  in  the  wilderness  of  a  heavenly  monarch's 
children, — it  shall  seem  to  us  an  immediate  gift  of  God, 
as  if  just  at  the  present  moment,  with  all  its  goodful 
and  joyous  things,  it  had — like  the  Apocalyptic  vision 
of  the  New  Jerusalem — descended,  by  a  great  miracle, 
out  of  heaven. 

Now,  although  I  have  but  just  entered  upon  a  consid- 
eration of  these  obstacles  of  thankfulness,  yet  the  re- 
mainder of  our  subject  compels  me  to  leave  other  things 
unsaid,  and  go  on  to  consider — 

Secondly — The  Helps  to  Thankfulness.  Of  course, 
the  first  thing  is  to  get  rid  of  these  obstacles.  But 
having  considered  this  already  in  passing,  let  us  advance 
to  some  practical  and  general  rules  for  strengthening 
our  thankfulness.     And — 

First — We  mast  entertain  just  and  philosophic  views 
of  life's  nature  and  mission.  We  are  here  in  this  world 
only  as  in  a  pupilage — or  transition  state — for  states 
higher  and  better,  and  must  learn  to  judge  things 
and  value  them  only  for  their  uses.  A  man,  cross- 
ing an  ocean  on  shipboard,  is  not  discontented  be- 
cause he  can  not  carry  with  him  his  sumptuous  furniture 
and  equipage ;  and  grumbles  not  that  his  state-room 
hath  not  the  breadth  and  brilliancy  of  his  palatial  pavil- 
ions. His  very  gladness  is,  that  he  is  in  a  structure  so 
modeled  and  circumscribed,  that  it  can  have  speed  upon 
the  waters.  And  just  so  it  is  with  a  man  in  progress  to 
immortality.  What  he  wants  is  rather  a  tent,  that  can 
be  pitched  and  struck  at  pleasure ;  and  provisions  of  a 


THANKFULNESS.  261 

style  and  kind  that  can  be  carried  in  journeys ;  than  a 
splendid  palace,  and  ponderous  luxuries,  incapable  of 
transportation.  And  so  a  true  appreciation  of  the  real 
uses  of  things,  "will  go  far  to  render  us  thankful  for  the 
peculiar  size  and  shape  of  the  blessings  God  gives  us. 
Then,  as  before  intimated, 

Secondly — ~\Ve  must  dwell  much  in  thought  upon  these 
Divine  mercies,  present  and:  actual.  We  are  too  much 
given  to  day-dreams  and  reveries  amid  things  possible 
and  future.  We  lift  the  glass  of  imagination  to  the  far 
hills,  that,  mellowed  by  distance  and  haloed  with  the 
purple  and  gold  of  the  setting  sun,  look  like  lands  of 
fairy,  and  grow  impatient  and  dissatisfied  with  the 
present  and  possessed.  And  yet,  there  is  no  one  in 
whose  present  experience  there  is  not  mingled  very  much 
— enough  at  least  for  constant  thankfulness — of  comfort 
and  blessedness.  And  what  we  want,  is  a  disposition  to 
sit  down  and  count  and  acknowledge  our  mercies. 

Perhaps  you  do  not  all  know  the  origin  on  this  conti- 
nent of  these  annual  thanksgiving  days.  It  was  on 
this  wise,  and  on  the  point  under  review  is  altogether 
instructive.  When  the  New  England  colonies  were 
first  planted,  the  settlers  endured  many  privations  and 
difficulties.  Being  piously  disposed  they  laid  their  dis- 
tresses before  God  in  frequent  days  of  fasting  and 
prayer.  Constant  meditation  on  such  topics  kept  their 
minds  gloomy  and  discontented,  and  made  them  dis- 
posed even  to  return  to  their  father-land,  with  all  its 
persecutions.  At  length  when  it  was  again  proposed  to 
appoint  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer,  a  plain,  common- 
sense  old  colonist  rose  in  the  meeting,  and  remarked, 
that  he  thought  they  had  brooded  long  enough   over 


262  THANKFULNESS. 

their  misfortunes ;  and  that  it  seemed  high  time  they 
should  consider  some  of  their  mercies.  That  the  colony- 
was  growing  strong — the  fields  increasing  in  harvests — 
the  rivers  full  of  fish,  and  the  woods  of  game — the  air 
sweet — the  climate  salubrious — their  wives  obedient — and 
their  children  dutiful.  Above  all  that  they  possessed,  what 
they  came  for,  full  civil  and  religious  liberty.  And 
therefore,  on  the  whole,  he  would  amend  their  resolution 
for  a  Fast,  and  propose,  in  its  stead,  a  day  of  Thanks- 
giving. His  advice  was  taken,  and  from  that  day  to 
this,  whatever  may  have  been  the  disastrous  experience 
of  New  England,  the  old  stock  of  the  Puritans  have 
ever  found  enough  of  good  in  their  cup  to  warrant  them 
in  appointing  this  great  annual  festival.  Passing  this 
we  observe, 

Thirdly — Tliat  in  order  to  be  thankful,  we  must 
make  the  best  of  our  misfortunes.  What  the  Germans 
tell  us  as  a  parable,  we  have,  all  of  us — who  have 
gone  afield  with  nature  in  observant  moods — witnessed 
not  unfrequently.  Standing  by  some  autumnal,  and 
over-matured  flower,  we  have  seen  the  laborious  bee  come 
hurrying  and  humming,  and  plunging  into  the  flower's 
cup,  where  there  was  not  a  particle  of  honey.  But  what 
does  the  bee  do  ?  Why,  after  sucking,  and  sucking,  and 
finding  no  nectar,  does  it  come  up  from  the  flower's  heart 
with  a  disappointed  air,  as  if  departing  to  some  other 
field  of  labor ?  Ah  no !  If  there  be  no  sweets  at  the 
flower's  red  core,  yet  its  stamens  are  full  of  golden 
farina,  and  out  of  the  farina  the  bee  builds  its  cells ;  and 
so  it  rolls  its  little  legs  against  these  stamens,  till  they 
look  large  and  loaded  as  golden  hose,  and  thanking  the 
flower  as  sweetly  as  if  it  had  been  full  of  honey,  gladly 


THANKFULNESS.  263 

humming  it  flies  home  with  its  wax.  Yes,  and  herein 
lies  God's  moral — If  our  flowers  have  no  honey  ^  let  us 
be  glad  of  the  wax/ 

And  this  reminds  me  of  another  incident  connected 
with  the  appointment  of  thanksgiving  days.  When  our 
national  independence  had  been  triumphantly  achieved, 
the  Colonics,  of  Course,  held  great  general  jubilee.  And 
good  King  George,  who  had  been  sadly  worsted  in  the 
conflict,  thinking  himself  quite  as  pious  as  his  disloyal 
subjects — and  not  to  be  outdone  in  godliness  by  such 
rebels  against  the  Divine  right — appointed  also  a  day  of 
thanksgiving  for  the  restoration  of  peace  to  his  long 
disturbed  empire.  In  the  vicinity  of  the  monarch's  resi- 
dence, then  Windsor  Castle,  dwelt  a  most  estimable 
minister  of  the  Church,  who  shared  his  sovereign's 
intimacy,  and  conversed  with  him  freely.  On  this  oc- 
casion the  worthy  divine  ventured  to  say  : — 

"  Your  majesty  has  sent  out  a  proclamation  for  a  day 
of  thanksgiving.  For  what  are  we  to  give  thanks  ?  Is 
it  because  your  majesty  has  lost  thirteen  of  the  fairest 
jewels  from  your  crown  ?" 

"  No,  no,"  replied  the  monarch,  "  not  for  that !" 

"Well,  then,  shall  we  give  thanks  because  so  many 
millions  of  treasure  have  been  spent  in  this  war,  and  so 
many  millions  added  to  the  public  debt  ?" 

"  No,  no,"  again  replied  the  king,  "  not  for  that !" 

"  Shall  we,  then,  give  thanks  that  so  many  thousands 
of  our  fellow-men  have  poured  out  their  life-blood  in  this 
unhappy  and  unnatural  struggle,  between  those  of  the 
same  race  and  religion?" 

"  No,  no,"  exclaimed  George,  for  the  third  time ;  "  not 
that !" 


264  THANKFULNESS. 

"For  what,  then,  may  it  please  your  majesty,  are  we 
to  give  thanks  ?"  asked  again  the  pious  divine. 

"  Thank  God  !"  cried  the  king  most  energetically ; 
"  Thank  God  that  it  is  not  any  worse  !" 

Yes,  and  here  is  a  reason  for  thankfulness  in  all  circum- 
stances, since  it  is  never  so  bad  with  us  as  it  might  be. 
And. even  if  God  be  pouring  out  the  vials  of  his  anger, 
yet  blessed  be  his  name !  He  never  empties  them  to  the 
uttermost. 

But  then  this  making  the  best  of  trials  and  disappoint- 
ments involves  much  more  than  simply  enduring  them, 
in  view  of  their  accompanying  mercies. — And  we 
observe, 

Fourthly — That  toe  must,  meaniohile,  learn  to  look 
xipon  these  very  evils  as  God's  disguised  blessings. 
To  every  true  Christian  they  are  so,  positively,  and  be- 
yond controversy.  As  part  of  the  special  Providence 
of  a  wise  and  loving  Father,  they  can  not  be  otherwise. 
It  is  God  that  determines  the  bounds  of  our  habitation ; 
the  stations  we  are  to  fill ;  the  comforts  we  are  to  enjoy ; 
and  the  trials  we  are  to  suffer.  And  if  we  have  not  much 
of  the  present  world,  it  is  not  because  our  heavenly 
Father  is  not  able  to  give  us  more.  It  is  all  to  be  re- 
solved into  the  wisdom  and  kindness  of  the  Divine  ad- 
ministration— God's  wisdom  discerning  how  much  is 
best  for  us — and  his  love  determining  to  allow  us  no 
more.  As  a  truth  alike  of  experience  and  revelation, 
these  present  afflictions  are  salutary.  They  produce  in 
the  soul,  by  a  most  philosophic  process,  the  peaceable 
fruits  of  righteousness.  And  as  grace  is  the  measure, 
and  very  element,  of  glory  ;  so,  by  enlarging  heavenly 
exercises  in  the  soul,  "  do  these  light  afflictions  which  are 


THANKFULNESS.  265 

for  a  moment,  icorJc  out  for  us  afar  more  exceeding  and 
eternal  weight  of  glory.''''  They  are  but  the  storms  on 
the  water  driving  the  bark  toward  the  haven  !  but  the 
darkness  of  the  midnight  making  glorious  heaven's  stars  ! 
And  therefore  as  real,  though  disguised,  mercies,  are 
afflictions  to  be  regarded  as  they  relate  to  God's  true 
children.  And  this  leads  us,  as  a  direction  including  all 
others,  to  remark, 

Fifthly — That  to  become  truly  thankful,  we  must  be- 
come Christians — and  Christians  growing  in  grace  and 
advancing  in  knowledge.  We  have  no  limits  for  an  en- 
larged consideration  of  the  philosophic  tendency  of 
earnest  piety  to  produce  gratitude  and  gladness — but 
must  confine  ourselves  to  a  few  points  of  its  illustration. 

Religion  makes  a  man  humble — and  humility,  as  a 
grace,  lies  at  the  foundation  of  contentment.  If  the 
Christian's  lot  be  low,  he  thinks  more  meanly  of  himself 
than  others  can  think  of  him,  and  is  in  no  way  disquieted 
at  other  men's  opinions.  If  his  daily  mercies  seem  small, 
he  feels,  that,  being  unworthy  of  anything,  by  every 
elevation  of  his  condition  above  death  and  hell,  he  fares 
better  than  he  deserves,  and  gives  thanks  for  that  eleva- 
tion, with  true  love  and  rejoicing.  And,  contrasting  his 
condition  at  its  worst  with  that  of  his  Saviour,  feels  that 
a  universe  would  cry,  "  Shame !"  if  he  should  not  be 
thankful,  while  faring  better  -than  the  Master,  he  has  "  a 
place  to  lay  his  head  !" 

Meanwhile,  religion  gives  him  just  views  of  present 
things,  and  of  the  true  relation  he  sustains  to  them,  in 
this  earthly  economy.  They  never  seem  to  him  ends,  but 
only  means  unto  ends.  He  understands  how  his  present 
life  is  a   sojourn;  an   exodus.     And   as  a    true-hearted 

12 


266  THANKFULNESS. 

traveler,  he  expects  not  home-comforts  on  a  journey  ; 
but  is  content  with  rude  fare  and  humble  hostelries,  and 
can  thank  God  even  for  rough  roads  and  foul  weather, 
if  they  hinder  not  his  progress. 

Moreover,  religion,  as  it  is  essentially  a  principle  of 
self-denial,  moderates  a  marts  wishes,  and  so  creates 
happiness.  Diogenes  was  haj)pier  in  his  tub,  than 
Alexander  on  the  throne  of  his  empire.  And  for  a  good 
reason — because  the  tub  held  the  wishes  of  the  philoso- 
pher ;  but  the  world  was  too  small  for  those  of  the 
conqueror.  The  real  necessities  of  our  nature  are  few 
and  simple  and  easily  satisfied.  And  all  beyond  this 
is  the  tyranny  of  fancy.  The  water  drank  by  the  beg- 
gar, from  the  wayside  spring,  is  as  sweet  as  when  lifted 
to  a  king's  lip  in  a  golden  chalice.  The  true  want  is 
relieved  by  the  draught,  but  the  fancied  want  not  even 
by  the  goblet.  And  so  the  grand  secret  of  content- 
ment is  found,  not  in  increasing  our  supplies, — but  in 
diminishing  our  necessities.  Not  in  revealing  new 
worlds  to  satisfy  Alexander ;  but  in  transforming  Alex- 
ander into  Diogenes  satisfied  with  his  tub. 

Meanwhile,  religion  produces  trustfulness,  and  so 
brings  contentment.  After  all,  the  great  secret  of  dis- 
content, is  born  of  anticipation.  These  reveries  and 
day-dreams  are  full  of  tormenting  phantoms.  Even 
if  we  are  hoping  for  better  things  in  the  future,  this 
very  expectation  begets  dissatisfaction  with  the  present. 
It  places  the  heart  in  attitudes  as  unfavorable  to  pres- 
ent enjoyment,  as  that  of  a  racer  for  observing  the 
beautiful  landscapes  he  is  crossing.  The  butterfly  we 
pursue  is  grasped  at  last,  all  bruised  and  shattered, 
just  because  we  pursued  it, — whereas,  to  him  that  sits 


THANKFULNESS.  267 

contentedly  down,  there  comes  one  flitting  to  his  very 
hand,  in  all  its  wonderful  and  unmarred  beauty. 

But,  then,  the  staple  of  our  anticipations  is  fear  and 
foreboding  ;  we  are  always  conjuring  evil  for  the  mor- 
row. In  the  present,  things  may  be  well  enough.  But 
not  satisfied  to  enjoy  the  present,  we  are  always,  and  at 
awful  rates  of  interest,  borrowing  trouble  from  the 
future.  Climbing  mountains  that  are  yet  in  the  dis- 
tance !  Crossing  bridges  before  we  come  to  them. 
And  so  this  whole  habit  of  living  in  the  future  is 
fatal  to  all  thankfulness,  both  for  the  past  and  the  pres- 
ent ;  and  this,  religion  overcomes  by  making  the  man 
trustful.  It  makes  him  trustful  for  the  present.  With 
his  sins  forgiven,  and  his  conscience  at  peace,  he  carries 
the  celestial  elements  within  his  own  bosom.  And 
with  wings  of  love  and  faith  is  ever  soaring,  eagle- 
like, in  the  sunshine  of  God's  smile  ;  and  abiding  far 
above  the  serpents  of  discontent,  that  sting  the  dwellers 
in  the  dust,  and  the  clouds  of  despair,  that  fling  shad- 
ows on  the  tents  of  the  ungodly.  But,  more  than  all, 
religion  makes  the  man  trustful  of  the  future.  Even 
the  earthly  and  mortal  future  he  trusts  gladly  in  God's 
hand.  There  may  come  to  him  trials,  but  he  is  sure  of 
heavenly  strength  and  consolation.  With  every  cloud 
in  the  sky,  God's  rainbows  to  span  it !  With  every 
storm  on  the  sea,  the  Divine  Redeemer  to  still  it !  And 
the  more  steep  and  rugged  the  pathway,  only  the 
straighter  and  nearer  it  lies  toward  his  home  ! 

Meanwhile,  in  regard  to  the  immortal  and  heavenly 
future,  does  religion  make  the  man  trustful  and  thank- 
ful ?  His  faith  is  the  veritable  substance  of  things  un- 
seen  and  hoped  for;  and  he  is  mounting  ever  on  its 


268  THANKFULNESS. 

strong  wings  above  all  these  poor  clouds  of  the  mortal, 
until  he  can  catch  through  the  lustrous  gates  of  the 
Eternal  City,  its  songs  of  gladness — its  shapes  of  glory. 
He  stands  with  John  in  his  blessed  exile  ;  he  beholds 
those  radiant  trains  go  by — from  their  palms,  their 
plumes,  their  robes,  their  diadems,  flinging  light  that 
bathes  the  poor  Patmos  in  a  sea  of  heavenly  splendor. 
He  mounts  with  Paul  in  his  strange  rapture,  higher 
and  higher,  till  this  poor  world  fades  away  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  those  loftier  firmaments  are  ablaze  with 
the  ineffable  lustres  of  the  city  of  God !  Yea,  he 
enters  in!  —  he  stands  in  the  golden  street!  —  he 
walks  by  the  river  of  life  ! — he  numbers  "  the  hun- 
dred and  forty-and-four  thousand !" — he  takes  in 
that  overwhelming  perspective,  rising  tower  above 
tower !  pinnacle  above  pinnacle !  throne  above  throne ! 
higher!  higher!  higher!  "  Things  to  comeP''  "  Things 
to  come!'1''  He  catches  glimpses  of  those  transcendent 
and  unrevealed  realities  with  whose  unutterable  mag- 
nificence Paul  labored  vainly  when  he  cried,  "  The  far 
more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory  /"  And 
though  the  immensity  of  the  beatitude  overwhelms 
him,  as  he  thinks  of  his  own  insignificance  and  un- 
worthiness — and  it  seems  too  much  to  believe  that 
such  things  can  lie  along  the  future  of  his  experience — 
yet,  he  remembers  the  faith-strengthening  argument, 
that  "He  who  hath  given  his  Son,  will  with  him  freely 
give  us  all  things"  And  in  wondering  and  adoring 
love,  grasps  the  great  promise  of  "All  things  /"  Paul, 
and  Apollos,  and  Cephas,  and  the  world,  and  life,  and 
death,  and  things  present,  and  things  to  come.''''  "All 
things!" — absolutely,    "All    things!"      And    a  wise 


THANKFULNESS.  269 

and  sensible  man,  as  he  is,  he  says — "This  is  enough 
for  me, — surely  this  is  enough  for  me."  And  so,  con- 
tented with  the  present,  and  trustful  for  the  future, 
he  becomes,  as  he  ought,  a  happy  man,  and  a  thankful. 

And  iioav,  leaving  this  point,  as  the  first,  most  im- 
perfectly illustrated,  let  us  pass  to  consider — 

Thirdly — The  Reasons  of  Than/fulness,  or  why  toe 
ought  to  be  thankful? 

Of  course,  the  first  reason  is,  that  our  circumstances 
demand  it.  We  have  positively,  every  one  of  us,  very 
much  to  be  thankful  for.  Methinks  it  were  enough  to 
shame  any  man  out  of  his  miserable  mood  of  grumbling, 
just  to  sit  honestly  down  for  an  hour,  and  count  over  his 
blessings.  Just  contrast  your  own  condition  this  day, 
with  that  of  the  exulting  pilgrims,  when  they  kept  their 
first  thanksgiving  festival.  See  them,  amid  the  soli- 
tudes of  that  great  wilderness — the  cry  of  the  wild 
beast,  and  the  roar  of  the  strong  wind  rising  around  them 
— the  loved  homes  of  their  childhood,  and  the  precious 
temples  of  their  fathers,  far  away  over  the  waters — a 
barren  soil  beneath  their  feet ;  and  above,  the  cold  and 
cheerless  azure  of  a  stranger-heaven  !  And  yet  singing 
triumphantly  unto  God  their  Thanksgiving  Anthem  ! — 

"The  breaking  waves  dashed  high 
On  a  stern  and  rock-bound  coast, 
And  the  woods,  against  a  stormy  sky, 
Their  giant  branches  tossed ; 


"  And  the  heavy  night  hung  dark 
The  hills  and  waters  o'er, 
"When  a  band  of  exiles  moored  their  bark 
On  the  wild  New  England  shore. 


270  THANKFULNESS. 

"  The  ocean-eagle  soared 

From  his  nest  by  the  white  wave's  foam, 
And  the  rocking  pines  of  the  forest  roared — 
This  was  their  welcome  home  1 

"There  were  men  with  hoary  hair, 
Amidst  that  pilgrim-band — 
"Who  had  come  as  exiles  to  wither  there 
Away  from  their  childhood's  land! 

"  There  was  woman's  fearless  eye, 
Lit  by  her  deep  love's  truth ; 
There  was  manhood's  brow  serenely  high, 
And  the  fiery  heart  of  youth. 

"  Yet  not  as  the  sorrowing  come, 
In    silence  and  in  fear — 
They  shook  the  depths  of  the  desert's  gloom, 
With  their  hymns  of  lofty  cheer. 

"Amidst  the  storms  they  sang, 

And  the  stars  heard,  and  the  sea ! 
And  the  sounding  aisles  of  the  dim  wood  rang 
To  the  anthem  of  the  free !" 

Thus — thus,  did  our  forefathers  make  manifest  their 
thankfulness  to  God  for  his  mercies  !  And  shall  we  be  less 
thankful  ?  Why,  you  will  keep  this  festival  in  homes, 
and  amid  luxuries  such  as  old  monarchs  never  dreamed 
of !  Upon  your  boards  will  be  viands  and  spicery  from 
all  earth's  islands  and  continents.  In  your  wardrobes, 
the  wools  of  Saxony,  the  linens  of  Ireland,  the  silks  of 
Italy,  and  the  furs  of  the  frozen  zones.  And  crowding 
your  chambers,  furniture  and  bijoutry,  wrought  of  woods 
from  the  forests  of  Ceylon  and  Domingo  ;  and  of  metals 
from  the  mines  of  Potosi  and  the  Ural ;   and  of  gems 


THANKFULNESS.  271 

from  Brazilian  caverns  and  Indian  streams  ;  and  of  costly 
stuffs  from  the  looms  of  Manchester  and  Lyons;  and  of 
plumes  from  the  groves  of  Araby  the  blest ;  and  of  the 
magnificent  marbles  of  Egypt  and  Italy.  And  if,  in  such 
homes,  you  can  not  be  thankful,  it  must  be  as  the  sated 
Sybarite,  pained  with  his  displaced  rose-leaf.  Meanwhile, 
in  your  homes,  are  better  things  than  these.  Those  be- 
loved forms  that  sit  by  its  board.  Those  gentle  voices, 
sweeter  to  your  soul  than  the  voices  of  angels,  that  make 
blessed  its  chambers.  Yes,  and  more.  That  precious 
Bible  that  shines  there  as  a  heaA-enly  lamp.  That 
family  altar,  at  whose  side  there  lifts  a  new  ladder,  from 
Bethel  to  the  skies,  with  its  descending  seraphim.  And 
then,  all  those  unnumbered  social  and  civil  and  national 
and  religious  beatitudes  which  surround  that  mortal  taber- 
nacle, as  shekinah-lustres  round  the  tents  of  the  Exodus. 
All  these  means  of  grace  !     All  these  hopes  of  glory ! 

Living  here  in  America — in  this  nineteenth  century — 
free  men — free  Christians — so  that  your  lot  seems  the 
veritable  realization  of  the  golden  dreams  of  the  old 
Hebrew  projDhets — those  gleaming  and  distant  millennial 
glories,  that  colored  the  page  of  Isaiah,  and  made  lus- 
trous the  clouds  of  the  Apocalypse  !  Verily,  you  have 
cause  for  gratitude.  Verily,  in  view  of  what  God  has 
done  for  you,  you  ought  to  be  thankful !  But  passing 
this,  I  remark, 

Secondly — That  for  your  own  sake,  for  the  sake  of 
your  oion  souls,  you  ought  to  be  thankful.  We  tell  you 
again,  and  again,  that  this  exercise  of  fault-finding  and 
grumbling  is  altogether  unprofitable.  If  some  great 
affliction  befalls  you — why,  give  it  one  grand  outburst  of 
relieving  tears,  and  have  done  with  it.     Bury  the  bless- 


272  THANKFULNESS. 

ing  God  takes  from  you  with  befitting  rites  of  lamen- 
tation, but  do  not  embalm  the  dead  thing  as  a  memorial- 
mummy,  and  keep  it,  as  an  everlasting  spectre  of 
misery,  in  the  midst  of  your  dwelling.  This  habit  of 
mournful  sadness  destroys,  alike,  happiness  and  influence, 
and  usefulness  and  character.  I  am  disposed  to  believe 
— though  naturalists  will  differ  from  me — that  the  owls 
were,  originally,  as  clear-sighted  and  joyous  creatures  as 
the  eagles.  But,  getting  into  a  bad  habit  of  living  in 
caves,  and  going  abroad  only  to  mourn  over  the  night- 
side  of  nature,  they,  by  the  great  law  of  adaptations, 
have  degenerated  into  the  wretched  and  blind  of  God's 
winged  and  plumed  creation.  And  the  habit  works  as 
disastrously  in  human  experience.  It  blinds  the  eye,  and 
dwarfs  the  pinions  of  the  soul ;  renders  the  heart  a 
nervous  and  neuralgic  thing ;  eats  out  a  man's  piety  ; 
weakens  every  Christian  grace  ;  and  makes  the  creature 
a  torture  to  himself,  and  a  curse  to  his  neighborhood. 
And  this  leads  me  to  remark, 

Thirdly — That,  as  Christians,  ice  ought,  for  the  sake 
of  others,  to  manifest  this  abiding  spirit  of  joy  and 
thanksgiving.  I  speak  now  to  professing  Christians. 
And,  as  exemplified  in  the  lives  of  such,  this  religion 
of  Christ  ought  to  appear  the  loveliest  and  most  attract- 
ive of  all  things.  But  how  does  it  appear  as  exhibited 
in  the  life  of  a  sad-faced  and  sad-hearted  professor  ?  The 
man  walks  abroad  with  his  sighs,  like  the  wind  in  a 
cedar-bush  ;  his  step,  as  the  grinding  of  a  hearse  over 
unbroken  gravel-stones ;  and  the  impenitent  man  looks 
on  with  a  recoil,  and  says,  "Well,  if  that  man  is  walking 
to  glory,  it  must  be  a  hard  road  to  travel !"  "  If  that  is 
religion,  it  is  a  poor  thing,  make  the  best  of  it !"      Sup- 


THANKFULNESS.  273 

pose  an  angel  should  come  clown  from  the  skies,  and 
walk  up  and  down  among  men,  with  his  brow  wrinkled 
with  sadness  and  his  eyes  dim  with  tears !  Why,  then, 
even  if  God's  fire-car,  with  its  flaming  coursers,  stood 
all  lustrous  at  your  threshold — where  is  the  man  among 
you  that  would  mount  it  gladly,  and  with  a  loosened 
rein  and  a  bounding  heart,  spring  exultingly  toward  a 
heaven,  whose  very  angels  seem  wretched  ?  And  there- 
fore we  remark — 

.Finally — That  for  your  heavenly  Father's  sake,  you 
ought  to  cherish  and  display  this  spirit  of  thanksgiving. 
I  do  not  mean  merely  that  he  deserves  your  praises — 
this  I  have  already  insisted  on.  Nor  do  I  mean  merely 
that  he  commands  you  to  be  thankful.  Although 
coming,  as  my  text  does,  as  the  precept  of  a  Divine  law, 
I  might  say  that  the  man  ever  grumbling  does  as  ex- 
pressly disobey  God  as  the  man  ever  uttering  false- 
witness  or  blasphemy.  But  I  do  mean,  in  this  connection, 
that  by  this  exhibition  of  sorrowful  unthankfulness,  you 
positively  and  powerfully  dishonor  Jehovah !  A  mon- 
arch, whose  subjects  are  always  complaining  of  their  lot, 
is  set  down  by  the  Avorld  as  a  hard  and  selfish  tyrant. 
A  father,  whose  children  walk  abroad  ever  in  sadness 
and  tears,  is  anathematized  by  all  people  as  a  heartless 
and  cruel  parent.  And  so  the  world  judges  of  your 
eternal  Sovereign,  and  your  heavenly  Father,  when 
you,  his  professed  subjects  and  children,  go  murmuring 
and  complaining  about  the  earth,  as  if  Christian  life 


"Were  but  a  cloud 
Brooding  in  nameless  sorrow  on  the  soul. 
A  sadness — a  sick-heartedness — a  tear  I" 
12* 


274  THANKFULNESS. 

No — no — no.  Shame  on  us,  if,  surrounded  by  such 
blessings,  and  hastening  onward  to  such  revelations  of 
glory,  we  go  ever  with  the  bowed  head,  and  the  mournful 
footsteps,  saying  to  the  world  by  our  pitiful  complainings 
— "  See  how  the  eternal  God  is  maltreating  his  loyal 
subjects!"  "See  how  our  heavenly  Father  is  torturing 
his  children !" 

And  now,  if  you  gather  into  one,  all  these  reasons  for 
cherished  and  expressed  gratitude,  you  will  perceive  the 
wisdom   and  excellence   of  the  text's   great  law,    "  Be 

THANKFUL  !" "  Be    THANKFUL  !" 

And,  therefore,  as  individuals,  and  as  a  people,  let 
us  see  if  we  can  not  keep  this  great  national  festival 
in  the  true  spirit  of  the  requirement.  If  we  will  not 
obey  the  governor,  let  us  at  least  obey  God ;  and, 
leaving  all  our  dead  sorrows  in  the  grave,  and  all  our 
complainings  at  home,  come  up  with  bright  eyes  and 
happy  hearts  to  God's  temple,  and  with  voices  of  praise, 
wherein  is  blent  no  undertone  of  sadness,  sing  to  our 
heavenly  Father  some  such  anthems  as  this : — 

"  Come,  thou  fount  of  every  blessing, 

Tune  my  heart  to  sing  thy  grace ; 
Streams  of  mercy  never  ceasing, 

Call  for  songs  of  loudest  praise ; 
Teach  me  some  melodious  sonnet, 

Sung  by  flaming  tongues  above, 
Praise  the  Mount — Oh,  fix  me  on  it, 

Mount  of  God's  unchanging  love. 

'  Here  I  raise  my  Ebenezer, 

Hither  by  thy  help  I'm  come ; 
And  I  hope,  by  thy  good  pleasure, 
Safely  to  arrive  at  home. 


THANKFULNESS.  275 

Jesus  sought  me  when  a  stranger, 

"Wandering  from  the  fold  of  God  ; 
He,  to  rescue  me  from  danger, 

Interposed  with  precious  blood. 

"  Oh,  to  grace  how  great  a  debtor 

Daily  I'm  constrained  to  be> 
Let  that  grace,  Lord,  like  a  fetter, 

Bind  my  wandering  heart  to  thee. 
Prone  to  wander,  Lord,  I  feel  it ; 

Prone  to  leave  the  God  I  love ; 
Here's  my  heart,  Lord,  take  and  seal  it, 

Seal  it  for  thy  courts  above." 


THE    FEAST    OF    HARVEST. 


"  The  feast  of  harvest." — Exodus,  xxiii.  16. 

We  have  assembled  again  in  God's  house  upon,  what 
may  be  called,  the  great  religious  festival  of  the  Ameri- 
can year.  These  "Thanksgivings"  of  the  separate  States 
are  taking  more  and  more  the  character  of  a  grand 
national  jubilee.  Originally  puritanical  institutions,  they 
have  become  a  part  of  our  common  and  ceremonial  law, 
until  all  the  families  of  the  land  look  for  and  enjoy  them. 

We  have  selected  for  this  occasion  a  text,  which,  to 
the  executive  proclamation  calling  us  together,  adds  the 
solemnity  of  a  Divine  sanction.  It  is  historic  of  festivals 
not  dissimilar  among  God's  ancient  covenant  people. 
Perhaps  we  have  been  accustomed  to  regard  the  Hebrew 
religion  as  especially  wanting  in  the  joyous  element ; 
doubting  almost  the  possibility  of  religious  gladness, 
amid  its  sternly  sacrificial  rites,  and  its  august  doctrinal 
Theism.  But,  if  so,  we  have  erred  widely.  Under  every 
dispensation  alike  has  religion,  as  set  forth  by  God,  been 
essentially  joyous.  uT/ie  icays  of  tcisdom,  whether 
trodden  by  the  old  patriarchs  pitching  tents ;  or  by  the 
Levites  bearing  the  Tabernacle  ;  or  by  the  tribes  estab- 
lished in  Canaan  and  going  up  to  the  worship  of  Zion  ; 


TEE    FEAST    OF    HARVEST.  277 

or  by  Christians  under  the  fuller  light  of  the  Gospel 
ascending  to  glory;  have  been  always  and  altogether 
"  icays  of  pleasantness." 

The  pervading  spirit  of  the  Hebrew  economy  was  jubi- 
lant. Its  ritual  solemnity  was  hopeful  and  triumphant. 
The  later  Pharisaism,  with  its  face  disfigured,  was  a  mon- 
strous degeneration  from  the  exulting  faith  of  those  ear- 
lier and  palmier  days  of  old  Israel,  when  the  harp  and 
the  viol,  the  tabret  and  cymbal,  stringed  instruments 
and  organs,  were  their  accessories  of  worship.  Over  and 
above  the  solemn  joy  of  the  daily  temple  service,  there 
were  several  great  occasions  every  year,  when  the  whole 
Jewish  people  kept  religious  festival  by  Divine  appoint- 
ment. 

The  design  of  these  anniversaries  is  apparent.  They 
served  as  perpetual  memorials  of  grand  historic  events  in 
their  national  experience ;  they  counteracted  the  unsocial 
tendencies  of  their  tribal  divisions,  and,  by  bringing  the 
males  of  the  people  periodically  together  in  their  great 
central  city,  repressed  local  and  sectional  jealousies,  and 
consolidated  different  tribes  into  one  composite  nation ; 
they  moreover  afforded  the  whole  people  stated  seasons 
of  recreation,  so  necessary  to  the  development  of  man's 
physical  and  moral  nature. 

With  such  evident  purposes  of  good  did  God  appoint 
them,  and  the  old  Jews  kept  them  fittingly.  Probably 
the  world  has  never  witnessed  the  parallel  of  these  He- 
brew anniversaries.  At  their  approach,  the  whole  nation 
woke  to  holiday:  every  heart  bounded,  every  eye  flashed. 
From  valley  to  mountain-top,  the  land  broke  forth  into 
singing  ;  and  cottage,  and  palace,  and  hamlet,  and  city, 
with  harp  and  song  and  festal  procession,  were  joyous 


278  THE    FEAST    OF    HARVEST. 

before  God.  Jerusalem,  then  the  glory  of  the  whole 
earth,  the  city  of  the  great  King,  was  thronged  with 
exulting  thousands.  Not  only  the  chiefs  and  nobles  of 
the  ti"ibes,  but  the  mighty  men  of  the  whole  earth,  phi- 
losophers, and  sages,  and  conquerors,  and  kings — prose- 
lytes from  farthest  lands — came  up  in  their  pomp  and 
power,  to  keep  exulting  festival  before  God  in  the  grand 
central  city  of  their  faith. 

Now,  of  one  of  these  national  holidays  we  have  record 
in  the  text — "  The  Feast  of  Harvest.  "This  was  their 
Pentecost ;  so  called  from  a  Greek  word  signifying 
"fifty" — because  it  occurred  on  the  fiftieth  day  from  the 
feast  of  unleavened  bread.  It  was,  properly,  a  harvest 
festival,  in  which  the  Jew  offered  thanksgiving  unto  God 
for  the  ripened  fruits  of  the  earth. 

To  understand  the  peculiar  interest  the  Jew  took  iu 
this  holiday,  you  must  remember  that  the  Israelites,  after 
their  establishment  in  Canaan,  were  almost  entirely  a 
nation  of  farmers.  The  peasant  and  the  noble,  in  their 
respective  spheres,  were  alike  husbandmen.  While  a 
small  portion  of  the  tribes  on  the  eastern  side  of  Jordan 
led  a  purely  pastoral  life,  the  great  body  of  the  people 
were  engaged  mainly  in  the  cultivation  of  the  soil.  And 
they  were  encouraged  in  agriculture,  as  no  other  people 
have  ever  been,  by  their  peculiar  civil  economy.  By 
Divine  direction,  not  only  did  every  tribe  have  the  own- 
ership of  its  particular  province,  but  each  family  in  the 
tribe  had  as  well  its  specified  inheritance,  which  could 
never  be  wholly  alienated.  No  great  landholding  aris- 
tocracy could  arise  among  them.  The  poorest  Jew  was 
by  law  a  full  proprietor  of  the  soil.  His  homestead  was 
a  freehold  by  irrevocable  title.     If  for  a  time  alienated 


THE    FEAST    OF    HARVEST.  079 

by  debt  or  misfortune,  it  returned  to  him  again  unencum- 
bered at  the  year  of  Jubilee.  Every  husbandman  felt, 
therefore,  that  all  improvements  in  bis  freehold  were  for 
the  benefit  of  himself,  and  bis  children.  And,  under  this 
encouragement  to  labor,  the  whole  land  of  Israel  was  in 
the  highest  state  of  cultivation.  Probably,  in  this  re- 
spect, no  country  on  earth  ever  equaled  it.  Naturally  a 
land  of  rare  productiveness,  it  was  well  described  as  "  a 
good  land  of  brooks,  of  water,  of  fountains,  and  depths 
that  spring  out  of  the  valleys  and  hills  /  a  land  of  wheat, 
and  barley,  and  vines,  and  fig-trees,  and  pomegranates  ; 
a  land  of  oil-olive  and  honey ;  wherein  they  should  eat 
bread  without  scarceness,  and  should  not  lack  any  good 
t/iing'''1 — a  land,  in  a  word,  altogether  unrivaled  in  its  exu- 
berant productiveness.  And  possessed  of  such  a  freehold, 
encouraged  to  its  culture  and  improvement  by  such  im- 
munities, it  is  not  wonderful  that  the  Land  of  Promise 
becomes  the  garden  of  tbe  world. 

The  peculiar  productions  of  all  zones  were  native  to  its 
widely  diversified  soil  and  climate.  Grains  of  all  species 
grew  richly  on  tbe  plains ;  plantations  of  olives  covered 
its  sandy  bills ;  its  low  clay  soils  nourished  groves  of 
stately  palms;  its  sharp  mountain  sides  were  hung  with 
vineyards.  Even  tbe  rocks,  in  precipitous  places,  were 
made  fertile  by  artificial  embankments ;  so  that,  in  the 
autumn  time,  corn-fields,  and  vineyards,  and  orange 
groves,  and  orchards,  and  forests,  rose  in  ascending  cir- 
cles from  valley  to  hill-top,  covering  the  whole  landscape 
with  lavish  beauty,  till  the  old  Canaan  seemed  fittingly 
a  very  emblem  of  heaven. 

Now,  we  say,  that  unto  such  a  people,  inhabiting  such 
a  country,  this  Feast  of  Harvest  was  necessarily  a  grand 


280  THE    FEAST    OF    HARVEST. 

festival.  Its  annual  return  could  not  but  wake  the 
nation  to  gladness.  Fair  and  befitting  were  the  exulting 
rites  of  that  old  holiday,  when  from  every  hamlet  and 
home,  from  glens  of  the  vine  and  olive,  and  from  valleys 
golden  with  corn,  the  thousands  of  Israel  went  up  to 
appear  before  God  in  Zion,  filling  the  land,  as  they 
passed,  with  those  old  choral  harmonies:  "Praise  the 
Lord,  O  Jerusalem  ;  praise  thy  God,  O  Zion.  For  he  hath 
strengthened  the  bars  of  thy  gates  ;  he  hath  blessed  thy 
children  within  thee.  He  maketh  peace  in  thy  borders, 
and  filleth  thee  with  the  finest  of  the  Avheat.  He  hath 
not  dealt  so  with  any  nation.  Praise  ye  the  Lord. 
Praise  God  in  his  sanctuary ;  praise  liim  in  the  firmament 
of  his  power.  Praise  him  with  the  sound  of  the  trumpet. 
Praise  him  with  the  timbrel  and  dance.  Kings  of  the 
earth,  and  all  people :  princes  and  all  judges  of  the 
earth :  both  young  men  and  maidens,  old  men  and 
children.  Let  every  thing  that  hath  breath  praise  the 
Lord.     Praise  ye  the  Lord." 

Such  was  the  Harvest-feast  of  God's  covenant  people. 
And  herein  have  we  warrant  for  such  feasts  among  our- 
selves. Without  pressing  again  the  analogy  between 
this  American  people  and  the  old  Hebrew  nation,  we 
find  in  our  circumstances  this  day,  precisely  the  tilings 
which  rendered  these  festivals  personally,  and  politically, 
and  religiously,  a  necessity  in  their  history. 

We,  too,  want  great  national  and  religious  holidays, 
to  keep  in  mind  great  national  providences.  Our  history 
as  a  people  has  been  as  manifestly  distinguished  as  theirs 
by  Divine  interposals  of  mercy  ;  and  we,  too,  should  have 
great  annual  gatherings,  to  make  grateful  acknowledg- 
ment of  God's  wonderful  deliverances ;  thus  setting  up 


THE    FEAST    OF    HARVEST.  281 

in  the  hearts  even  of  children's  children,  memorial-pillars 
— our  Ebenezers  of  Divine  help  unto  all  generations. 

We  need  them,  moreover,  as  verily  as  the  Jews,  for 
their  conservative  political  influence — to  counteract  the 
sectional  and  unsocial  tendencies  of  our  great  tribal 
divisions.  As  the  old  memories  of  Moses  and  Joshua, 
and  the  triumph  at  the  Red  Sea,  and  the  mighty  victo- 
ries of  the  Exodus — revived  and  perpetuated  by  their 
yearly  festivals — bound  the  several  tribes  together  in 
loving  brotherhood  ;  so  would  it  be  with  us.  And  if  we 
could  have,  like  them,  a  grand  national  Pentecost — some- 
thing like  our  Fourth  of  July,  as  it  lay  in  the  thought  of 
old  John  Adams  and  George  Washington — as  it  ought 
to  be,  and  would  be,  without  its  gas  and  gunpowder — a 
sublime  national  tribe-gathering  ! — reviving  strongly  in 
the  American  heart  the  memories  of  Plymouth  Rock, 
and  Jamestown,  and  Bunker  Hill,  and  Mount  Vernon — 
memories  of  our  old  deliverances  and  triumphs — deepen- 
ing, as  with  the  chisel  of  an  Old  Mortality,  the  inscrip- 
tions which  the  lapse  of  time  and  the  ruthless  storms  of 
party  and  fanaticism  are  so  sadly  defacing  on  our  old 
monuments  of  a  common  and  glorious  Past — hanging 
new  garlands,  woven  by  loving  hands,  and  fragrant  with 
the  dew  of  old  memories,  upon  the  tombs  of  men,  that, 
like  Israel's  champions,  led  us  in  our  Exodus,  and  estab- 
lished us  in  our  Canaan.  I  say,  if  Ave  could  come,  up  nation- 
ally to  such  Pentecosts,  then  no  living  man  would  ever 
again  dare  breathe  of  discord  and  disunion — for  chords, 
tender  as  our  loves  and  stronger  than  our  lives,  woven 
of  religion  and  holy  with  old  memories,  as  the  memorial 
festivals  uniting  Judah  and  Ephraim,  would  bind  us  to- 
gether and  bind  us  to  God ! 


2S2  THE    FEAST    OF    HARVEST. 

Meanwhile  we  need  such  pentecostal  holidays  for 
those  personal  advantages  which  they  brought  to  the 
Hebrews.  They  furnish  that  harmless  relaxation  so 
constitutionally  necessary  to  our  highest  well-being. 
Real  pleasure,  as  well  physical  as  moral,  is  always  the 
true  law  of  life.  Even  "  at  God's  right  hand,"  "  fullness 
of  joy"  is  the  proposed  end  of  our  being.  Not,  indeed, 
lawless  and  frivolous  gratifications,  but  pleasures  of  that 
serene  and  celestial  quality,  which  invigorates  the  body 
and  ennobles  the  soul.  And  such  pleasures  demand  for 
their  exercise  seasonable  relaxations. 

Now  if  there  is  any  thing  the  American  people  need  it 
is  recreation.  Perhaps  we  have  enough  of  an  enervating 
dissipation.  But  true  pleasure  re-creates,  and  we  need 
re-creating.  We  want  great,  noble,  national  holidays, 
such  as  God  appointed  to  the  Jews  in  their  annual 
festivals. 

Our  physical  nature  needs  them.  We  do  not  live  out 
half  our  days,  because  the  bow  is  ever  bent — the  sinew 
ever  strained — the  brain  ever  scheming.  Men  that  ought 
to  be  young  at  sixty,  are  superannuate  at  thirty.  Boy- 
hood is  bald-headed,  and  middle  age  hobbles  on  crutches. 
Our  life-chords  are  broken  by  over-tension :  there  is  no 
brake  upon  the  car,  no  escape-valve  for  the  vapor,  and  the 
physical  man  is  shattered  by  the  very  speed  of  its  flight. 

Our  moral  nature  needs  them.  Human  virtues  are 
like  flowers  that  thrive  best  in  the  sunshine.  Plato,  the 
philosophic  moralist,  encouraged  in  his  disciples  moods 
of  exuberant  gayety,  checking  their  joyous  imjmlses  only 
at  the  approach  of  some  grave  formalist ;  saying : 
"Silence  now,  my  friends,  let  us  be  wise — there  is  a  fool 
coming  /"  Stupid  gravity  is  not  virtue,  else  the  ass  and  the 


THE    FEAST    OF    HARVEST.         283 

owl,  the  most  portentously  grave  of  all  animals,  were  our 
models  of  manhood.  True  virtue  is  genial,  and  joyous; 
walking  earth  in  bright  raiment,  and  with  hounding  foot- 
steps. And  the  nervous,  restless,  unreposing,  devouring 
intensity  of  purpose  wherewith  our  men  follow  their  busi- 
ness, is  as  disastrous  to  the  nobler  moral  bloom  and 
aroma  of  the  heart,  as  a  roaring  hurricane  to  a  garden  of 
roses. 

Above  all,  our  religious  nature  needs  them.  The  true 
joy  of  the  Lord  is  the  Christian's  strength.  Cheerfulness 
is  a  very  element  of  godliness.  Religion  is  not  the 
stern  heroism  of  the  soul  clothed  in  sackcloth  and 
marching  to  martyrdom.  It  is  rather  the  j>erfect  har- 
mony of  all  the  soul's  faculties  moving  together  in  that 
music  of  joy  and  love  in  which  the  whole  man  marches 
heavenward.  To  come  to  Christ,  is  not  to  abide  in 
tombs,  cutting  ourselves  with  stones,  and  terrifying  with 
our  self-torturing  cries  every  passing  traveler — but  it  is 
rather  to  come  abroad  from  these  Gadarene  graves, 
having  the  sorrowful  devil  cast  out  of  us,  that  we  may 
return  to  our  loving  homes,  jubilant  and  exulting.  Piety 
is  not  a  poisonous  mushroom,  growing  best  in  the  night, 
but  a  fragrant  rose  of  Sharon,  needing:  the  sunshine. 
True  religion  asks,  and  will  have,  recreations;  if  denied 
the  pure,  it  will  seek  the  perverted.  The  old  Puritans 
strove  hard  to  render  religion  a  torment,  and,  in  their 
dread  of  recreations,  having  abandoned  all  true  amuse- 
ment to  Satan,  were  forced  to  seek  satanic  amusement, 
hunting  Quakers  as  wild  beasts,  and  making  bonfires  of 
witches. 

The  old  Jews  did  this  thing  better  with  their  joyous 
holidays,  when   with  harp   and  viol   they  went   up   to 


284  TEE    FEAST    OF    EAR  VEST. 

Zion.  Jehovah  was  not  mistaken  in  the  religions  regi- 
men of  his  children.  He  knew,  ami  provided  for,  a  great 
want  of  their  natures,  when  lie  appointed  their  festivals. 
The  American  church  sorely  needs  a  like  baptism  of 
gladness,  that  shall  send  her  to  her  Zion  with  hounding 
feet  and  shining  garments,  making  manifest  to  the  world 
that  the  service  of  God  is  not  a  sore  bondage,  hut  that 
the  ways  of  pleasantness  are  her  pathways  to  glory. 
It  is  right,  therefore,  on  all  these  grounds,  and  on  others ; 
it  is  right,  it  is  fitting,  it  heseems  our  higher  frames 
and  moods  of  true  piety,  that,  on  occasions  like  the  pres- 
ent, we  should  dismiss  from  our  minds  all  sorrowful  emo- 
tions, and  "  worship  the  Lord  in  the  beauty  of  holiness." 

This  is  our  Pentecost — our  feast  of  harvest.  And  even 
in  its  lowest  aspect,  as  a  grateful  acknowledgment  of 
GocVs  goodness,  in  preserving  for  our  use  the  kindly 
fruits  of  the  earth,  it  is  a  fitting  occasion  of  thankfulness. 

We  have  come  to  the  close  of  a  year  of  great  plenty ; 
our  fields  have  yielded  their  increase,  and  our  garners 
groan  with  supplies  for  the  famine  of  a  world.  And  for 
this  we  should  keep  joyous  festival  before  God. 

We,  indeed,  who  live  in  great  cities,  ofttimes  overlook 
this.  In  considering  the  evidences  of  our  national  pros- 
perity, we  ignore  the  agricultural.  Arts,  manufactures, 
commerce — in  those  we  rejoice.  Is  the  stock-market  buoy- 
ant ?  Do  the  banks  discount  freely  ?  Are  our  empori- 
ums crowded  with  stuffs  and  merchantmen  ?  Is  the  hum 
of  industry  loud  in  our  workshops  ?  Is  the  canvas  of 
commerce  white  on  our  waters  ?  These  are  the  questions 
wherewith  Ave  seek  evidences  of  our  national  prosper- 
ity. But  herein  we  forget  the  greater  interest  whereon 
these  things  hinge — the  interests  of  agriculture — the  sirn- 


THE    FEAST    OF    HARVEST.  285 

pier  thrift,  and  surer,  if  slower,  gains  of  the  husband- 
man. True  it  is,  the  princely  manufacturer  or  merchant 
sometimes  casts  a  kindly  eye  over  the  cheering  records 
of  the  corn-trade,  and  says,  "  Well,  breadstuff's  are 
cheaper,  and  the  poor  man  should  be  thankful."  As 
if  the  fruits  of  the  earth  were  to  the  poor  man,  more 
than  the  rich,  God's  noble  benefaction.  Alas,  foolish 
reasoner!  Let  the  labor  of  the  husbandman  fail — let 
God  shut  up  the  heavens,  that  they  rain  not,  and  parch 
the  plow-ground  into  barrenness,  and  what  becomes  of  the 
rich  man?  Can  he  grind  his  gold  with  millstones?  or 
leaven  his  bank-stock  into  bread  ?  With  all  his  hoarded 
wealth,  will  he  not  starve  side  by  side  with  the  beggar  in 
the  midst  of  the  famine  ?  Ah,  these  ears  of  ripened  corn 
are  the  true  germs  of  life  for  the  great  human  household  ! 

The  wheels  of  our  workshops,  the  sails  of  our  com- 
merce, the  implements  of  science,  the  pen  of  genius,  the 
pencil  and  chisel  of  artists,  the  eloquent  tongue  of  the 
orator,  the  scheming  brain  of  the  statesman,  the  equi- 
pages of  wealth,  the  banquetings  of  pleasure,  all — all  that 
render  earth,  in  its  tides  of  life,  any  thing  but  a  great 
sepulchre — move,  and  have  being  and  power,  only  be- 
cause the  fields  yield  their  fruits  to  the  patient  toil 
of  the  husbandman.  We  might  manage  to  live  wHffi- 
out  merchants,  without  manufacturers,  without  mariners, 
without  orators,  without  politicians,  without  poets — per- 
haps we  might  possibly  survive  the  loss  of  demagogues 
and  opera-singers,  and  prize-fighters  and  congressmen. 
To  read  some  of  the  newspapers,  one  would  think  we 
might  live  without  a  President;  but  sure  lam  tee  could 
not  live  without  plowmen  ! 

Suspend  for  a  single  twelvemonth  the  world's  practical 


286  THE    FEAST    OF    HARVEST. 

agriculture,  and  death's  shadow  is  over  it.  Our  harvests 
are  our  sustenance;  and  in  their  prodigal  abundance 
should  be  gathered  joyfully.  Life  for  you,  and  for  me, 
and  for  all  of  us, — life,  with  all  its  energies  and  aims 
and  ambitions,  its  love  and  hope  and  joy, — life  in  the 
heart,  the  household,  the  home ;  that  grand  and  glorious 
thing,  Life,  hath  ripened  for  us  in  these  golden  sheaves, 
and  gone  unto  the  garner.  And  our  feast  of  harvest 
should  be  kept  like  the  Jews,  as  a  grand  religious 
holiday. 

It  is  scarcely  possible  to  overestimate  the  importance 
of  agriculture.  It  surpasses  commerce  and  manufacture, 
as  a  cause  is  superior  to  its  eflects — as  an  inner  life  is  of 
more  moment  than  its  various  outward  functions.  We 
talk  of  the  immense  commerce  of  England — when,  in 
fact,  she  pays  more  annually  for  fertilizers  of  her  lands 
than  the  entire  gains  of  her  commerce ;  and  the  total 
value  of  her  year's  ci'op,  animal  and  vegetable,  was  some- 
time ago  reported  to  Parliament  to  be  three  thousand 
millions  of  dollars. 

Meanwhile,  the  reflex  influences  of  industrial  agricul- 
ture on  our  physical  and  social  well-being  are  as  well 
incalculable.  After  all,  the  finest  products  of  our  farm- 
lands are  found  in  our  farm-houses.  Things  better  than 
corn  and  cabbages  are  grown  on  plow-ground — bone, 
muscle,  sinew,  nerve,  brain,  heart ;  these  all  thrive  and 
strengthen  by  agriculture.  The  specimens  of  strong, 
hale,  common-sense  manhood  seen  at  our  annual  fairs  are 
a  finer  show  than  all  the  fat  cattle  and  sheep  and  noble 
horses,  and  the  brave  array  of  farm-fruits  and  imple- 
ments. Agriculture  purifies  morals,  chastens  taste,  deep- 
ens the  religious  element,  develops  the  individual  man. 


THE    FEAST     OF    HARVEST.  287 

And  it  were  a  giant's  stride  in  human  progress  if  the 
whole  multitude  of  non-producing  drones  that  swarm  in 
our  market-places  (politicians,  speculators,  fast  men,  rich 
idlers),  were  driven  into  the  rural  districts,  to  cultivate 
at  the  same  time  cabbages  and  themselves. 

Then,  too,  the  genius  of  American  agriculture  is  polit- 
ically democratic.  It  allows  no  aristocratic  monopoly 
of  the  soil.  The  one-man  power,  or  the  few-men  power, 
gives  place  here  of  necessity  to  the  every-raan  power  in 
the  proprietorship  of  small  freeholds. 

Most  easy  were  it  to  show,  had  we  time,  how  incalcu- 
lable are  the  benefits  of  agriculture  to  all  classes ;  and  to 
make  manifest  the  dependence  of  our  modern  civilization, 
social  and  political,  upon  the  agricultural  interest. 

No  wonder,  then,  that  the  Jew  kept  his  Pentecost ! 
No  wonder  that  in  brave  old  Scotland  men  went  afield 
with  sickle  and  bagpipe,  reaping  the  ripened  corn  to  the 
sounds  of  sweet  music  !  No  wonder  that  the  fairest  of 
festivals  was  the  sweet  old  "  Harvest  home "  of  merry 
England  !  No  wonder  that,  in  view  of  what  God  has  clone 
for  us,  as  Lord  of  the  harvest,  we,  looking  forth  upon  the 
wealth  of  fruitful  fields  outside  our  pent-up  cities — that 
grander  world,  beyond  the  narrow  world  of  trade,  the 
shallow  world  of  fashion,  that  world  of  dew,  and  sun- 
shine, and  bursting  buds,  and  bending  fruits,  where  every 
hill  breathes  a  benison,  and  every  valley  is  odorous  with 
blessing — at  the  close  of  a  year  whose  wealth  of  golden 
spoil  might  spread  luxuriously  the  boards  of  famishing 
nations ;  no  marvel,  I  say,  that  we,  a  blessed  people  in  all 
our  borders,  should  gather  in  these  temples  where  our 
fathers  worshiped,  with  our  offering  of  first-fruits  to  the 
God  of  the  haiwest. 


288  THE    FEAST    OF    HARVEST. 

This,  then,  is  the  first  and  lowest  aspect  of  our  annual 
Thanksgiving — a  tune  of  praise  to  God  for  the  ripened 
fruits  of  the  earth.  But  then  it  has  higher  aspects.  It 
had  even  to  the  Jews.  When  first  brought  forth  from 
Egyptian  servitude,  they  knew  little  truly  of  God  ;  they 
thought  of  him  as  of  the  dead  idols  of  the  Nile  ;  and 
these  feasts  of  harvest  taught  them  to  recognize  the 
Divine  agency  in  life's  common  blessings.  But,  as  they 
advanced  in  intellectual  theology,  these  festivals  took  a 
wider  and  loftier  range  and  meaning.  The  feast  of  the 
Passover,  at  first  commemorative  of  the  deliverance  from 
Egypt,  came  to  be  regarded  as  prophetic  of  Christ's 
coming  sacrifice.  And  the  feast  of  Pentecost,  originally 
a  simple  expression  of  thankfulness  for  harvests,  became 
successively  a  memorial :  First,  of  the  giving  of  the  Law 
at  Sinai,  and  Secondly,  of  the  descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
at  Jerusalem.  So  that,  in  their  later  history,  this  feast 
of  harvest  was  an  occasion  of  thanksgiving,  not  merely 
for  annual  physical  blessings,  but  for  all  their  distin- 
guishing mercies,  both  civil  and  religious. 

And  so  should  it  be  with  us.  Our  thanksgiving  is 
partly  in  view  of  the  ripened  fruits  of  the  earth  ;  but 
mainly  in  view  of  other  and  higher  blessings.  And  in 
this  regard,  as  well,  it  is  properly — a  feast  of  harvest. 
In  respect  of  all  things, — not  merely  the  natural  fruits  of 
the  earth,  but  all  great  human  interests,  political,  intel- 
lectual, religious, — we  may  be  said  to  live  in  the  world's 
great  harvest-time.  We  have  reaped,  and  are  reaping, 
the  ripened  and  ripening  fruits  of  all  earth's  past  gener- 
ations.    Consider  this  a  little. 

First :  This  is  true — politically.  Philosophically  con- 
sidered, the  grand  end  and  aim  of  all  civil  progress  is 


THE    FEAST    OF    HARVEST.  289 

human  freedom — the  highest  development  and  culture 
of  the  individual  and  free  manhood.  Monarchy  the  one- 
man-power,  oligarchy  the  few-men-power,  are  but  the 
successive  stages  of  the  growing  life,  up  to  the  ripened 
product  of  the  true  democracy — the  all-men-power.  To 
this  end  hath  tendered  all  political  progress ;  and  beyond 
this  there  is  no  progress.  This  is  the  harvest  of  earth's 
long  political  husbandry ;  and  we  are  reaping  it.  Till 
the  great  American  development,  the  world  had  known 
no  true  democracy.  The  old  republicans,  falsely  so 
called,  were  not  forms  of  self-government,  but  things 
rudimental  and  embryonic;  the  mind's  abortive  and 
premature  struggles  to  bring  forth  freedom.  And  our 
American  nationality  is  the  "  first  fruits  "  of  true  liberty. 
It  is,  indeed,  but  the  first  fruits.  In  one  respect  this 
nationality  is  only  a  <yerm — the  first  sowing  of  a  true 
seed  for  a  great  harvest  of  republics,  which  we  know 
not  of  as  yet — a  handful  of  corn  on  the  mountains,  that,  in 
its  diffusion  of  enlightened  liberty  and  universal  self-gov- 
ernment, shall  yet  wave  like  Lebanon  in  the  grand  har- 
vest of  the  world.  "  The  world  will  be  either  Cossack 
or  Republican,"  said  Napoleon,  and  we  say,  not  Cossack, 
for  the  world  in  God's  husbandry,  not  for  tares  but  for 
wheat. 

Ours  is  but  the  first  fruits,  but  then  they  are  ripe 
fruits !  The  great  human  aloe  hath  shot  foi*th  one  glo- 
rious spike,  and  brought  forth  one  blossom  !  For  centu- 
ries the  race  made  its  slow  progress  from  the  gnarled 
roots  of  the  elder  despotisms.  On  the  transatlantic 
continents,  empires  rose,  and  flourished,  and  fell ;  Rome, 
Greece,  Persia,  Assyria,  Egypt, — in  each  human  nature 
struggled  into  great  forms  and  developments  of  life. 
13 


290  THE    FEAST    OF    HARVEST. 

There  were  buds,  and  green  leaves,  and  early  blossoms 
amid  the  mighty  branches;  but,  alas,  the  unripened 
fruit  was  shaken  by  convulsions,  and  fell  as  the  fig-tree 
casteth  her  untimely  figs  !  But  at  last,  in  this  western 
world,  the  fruits  of  true  liberty  seem  ripening  in  the 
sunshine.  No  man  can  read  our  past  history,  and  not 
cry  out  in  faith,  "  this  is  God's  husbandry !"  The  care- 
ful keeping  of  this  virgin  soil  for  a  new  product — the 
winnowing,  amid  wild  convulsions,  as  with  fire  and 
flame,  of  the  old  humanity,  for  a  new  seed  to  scatter  on 
this  glorious  plow-ground — the  germination,  the  strong 
rooting,  the  slow  growth,  amid  seething  rains  and  whis- 
tling storms  of  our  struggling  colonial  life.  These  are 
the  manifestations  of  a  grand  Divine  husbandry  ! 

Who  questions  it  longer?  Verily,  it  is  a  story  of 
marvels  !  That  feeble  folk,  like  seed  by  the  wayside,  on 
Plymouth  Rock,  and  the  peninsula  of  Jamestown — that 
struggle  for  existence,  as  of  untimely  buds  for  life,  amid 
the  chill  blasts  and  rank  growths  of  the  wilderness — but, 
as  the  germs  rooted  and  shot  upward,  that  miraculous 
progress,  as  the  green  vine  of  Nineveh — hamlet  after 
hamlet,  city  after  city,  State  after  State, — the  stupendous 
growth  of  a  virgin  world — rising  up  in  their  strength  ; 
shooting  downward  strong  roots,  and  upward  great 
branches  ;  and  yet,  not  according  to  the  old  vegetable 
law — each  the  germ  of  a  separate  and  independent  life — 
but  rather  like  the  mighty  Indian  tree,  the  lengthening 
branch  bending  downward  to  the  ground,  forming  for 
itself  new  roots,  and  becoming  a  new  trunk,  till  the 
whole  land  is  covered  with  the  growth  of  a  single  tree, 
with  the  seeming  of  a  forest — so,  all  these  sovereign 
States,  covering  a  continent,  and  yet  all  bound  by  the 


THE    FEAST    OF    HARVEST.  291 

common  law  and  life  of  freedom,  into  one  grand  com- 
posite nation  !     Verily  here  is  Divine  working  \ 

Look  at  America  as  she  stands  before  you  this  day. 
Her  agriculture,  her  arts,  her  commerce,  her  happy  homes, 
her  great  cities,  her  matchless  civil  franchises,  her  insti- 
tutions of  knowledge  and  charity,  her  broad  boundaries, 
her  vast  resources,  her  magic  progress  in  the  inspiration 
of  her  youthful  and  exulting  life,  her  present  beatitude, 
her  boundless  and  magnificent  future,  as  she  stands  the 
living  embodiment  of  civil  and  religious  freedom — the 
shooting  of  the  civil  life  of  all  generations  into  one  grand 
century-flower  of  humanity  !  Look  at  all  this,  I  say, 
and  then  tell  me  if  this  seems  not  a  harvest-field  in  man's 
golden  autumn  ?  And  whether  your  thought  be  of  the 
struggles  of  old  nations  to  bring  forth  freedom  :  or  of 
our  own  historic  struggles  for  colonial  life;  tell  me,  if  the 
ripened  grain  waves  not  in  the  fields  around  us,  and  our 
thanksgiving  this  day  for  civil  and  national  blessings  be 
not  unto  our  God —  a  great  feast  of  harvests  ? 

Then  passing  from  the  political^  the  same  thought  is 
true  in  regard  of  the  intellectual.  It  is  a  thought  well 
worthy  onr  pondering,  on  an  occasion  like  this — that  toe 
live  in  the  harvest-time  of  mind  and  thought  !  Carefully 
considered,  the  development  of  the  "  mental,"  follows  the 
law  of  material  development.  "  First,  the  blade,  then  the 
ear,  after  that  the  full  corn  in  the  ear."  Genius  is  first 
poetical ;  then  practical.  First,  the  flaunting  blossom ; 
then  the  substantial  fruit.  From  the  beginning,  man's 
law  of  intellectual  progress  has  been,  from  the  abstract 
to  the  practical— from  ideas  to  facts.  The  practical, 
being  the  fruit  of  the  imaginative,  as  the  ripened  corn  is 
the  fruit  of  the  plant's  inner  life.     And  as  the  plant-germ 


292  TEE    FEAST    OF    EARVEST. 

must  experience  its  successive  vegetable  transformations 
before  it  ripens  into  fruit,  so  it  would  seem  necessary  for 
every  great  thought  to  pass  through  a  series  of  embry- 
onic changes,  before  it  can  attain  to  a  perfect  and  practi- 
cal development.  And  in  this  respect  we  seem  to  live 
in  man's  intellectual  harvest-time.  The  generations 
agone  have  been  times  of  preparation — the  seasons  of 
thought-germ,  and  thought-blossom,  rather  than  of 
thought-fruit. 

We  can  not  enlarge  here,  but  must  content  ourselves 
with  a  few  illustrations  of  the  truth — that  in  our  time 
the  old  speculative  and  sentimental  "Ideas"  have  be- 
come great  practical  "  Facts." 

The  old  Astrology,  which,  looking  upon  the  stars  as 
prophetic  hieroglyphics,  and  reading  therein  the  fate  of 
men  and  empires,  burst  into  radiant  but  poisonous 
blossoms  of  superstition  on  the  plains  of  Assyria  and 
beneath  the  blue  Egyptian  heavens,  hath  ripened  into  a 
grand  practical  science,  till  our  Astronomy  elevated  the 
race  into  the  regions  of  most  useful  philosophy  and  lofti- 
est knowledge  of  God. 

The  splendid  yet  disastrous  dreams  of  the  old  Alche- 
my, have  showered  their  false  blooms  and  ripened  into  a 
grand  science,  until  the  wild  visions  of  the  philosopher's 
stone,  the  universal  solvent,  the  universal  medicine,  are 
more  than  realized  in  the  immeasurable  benefits  unto 
agriculture  and  manufactures  and  the  arts  of  true  practi- 
cal Chemistry. 

The  old  Magnetism^  whose  highest  aim  was  to  furnish 
playthings  for  children,  was  the  toy-blossom  which  has 
ripened  now  into  substantial  fruit ;  and,  in  the  mariner's 
compass,  furnished  a  key  to  the  gates  of  ocean,  and  a 


THE    FEAST    OF    HARVEST.  293 

guide  through  the  mighty  paths  of  the  sen,  and  given 
unto  man  the  islands  and  continents  of  a  world. 

The  idle  fancy  of  the  old  Hollander,  carving  rude  let- 
ters in  beech  bark,  for  sport,  was  the  thought-germ,  whose 
perfected  fruit  is  the  Printing  Press — that  gigantic 
power  on  the  earth,  before  which,  the  old  despotisms 
and  superstitions  of  the  world  are  passing  away  as  mists 
from  a  sunburst — whose  earthly  results  are  all  the  won- 
ders of  progressive  civilization,  and  whose  heavenly 
utterances  are  the  leaves  of  the  Tree  of  Life  for  the 
healing  of  the  nations. 

Steam — that  fantastic  shape  that  played  aerial  and 
useless  before  the  eyes  of  old  dreamers — hath  as- 
sumed a  personality  of  glory  and  power.  And  the 
thought-germ,  that  seemed  a  vanishing  vapor,  is  to-day 
the  mightiest  reality  of  life — man's  Titanic  servant  every- 
where ;  chained  in  the  dark  caverns  of  the  earth  ;  fet- 
tered to  the  Avheels  of  great  machinery  ;  harnessed  on  the 
thoroughfares  of  traffic  ;  rushing  through  the  valleys  ; 
leaping  on  the  mountains  ;  marching  on  the  seas — God's 
own  winged  wind  unto  man's  chariot,  bearing  him  over 
all  the  brute  forces  and  forms  of  nature,  in  imperial  do- 
minion conquering  and  to  conquer  ! 

Then,  latest  and  most  wonderful  of  all — the  Tele- 
graph!— thought's  most  glorious  harvest  !  The  elec- 
tric element  on  which  it  depends  had  slept  latent  for 
centuries  in  all  material  forms,  too  minute  for  detection, 
too  subtile  for  analysis.  Then,  all  unsubstantial  and  shape- 
less, it  knocked  for  admission  into  man's  palaces  of  fancy, 
and  the  old  Philistines  of  philosophy  made  sport  with 
the  Samson — Muschenbroek's  Leyden-jar — Franklin's 
wandering   kite — those    were    the    thought-germs    of   a 


294:  THE    FEAST    OF    HARVEST. 

glorious  harvest.  The  power  that  at  the  close  of  the  last 
century,  by  means  of  a  pith-ball  electronometer,  carried 
signals  for  amusement  to  an  adjoining  room,  now  flashes 
in  the  real  business  of  life,  through  more  than  a  hundred 
thousand  miles  of  Electric  Telegraph.  Verily  the  em- 
bryonic germ  hath  ripened  into  fruit  ! 

And  the  past  year  has  witnessed  its  most  marvelous 
development.  We  are  indeed  told  that  the  Atlantic 
Telegraph  is  a  failure  ;  that  our  rejoicings  over  it  were 
childish ;  that  all  this  clamorous  congratulation  was  the 
cock-crowing  before  morning,  that  the  less  we  say  about 
that  cable  the  better, — till  it  speaks  for  itself.  But  we 
answer — It  has  spoken  for  itself!  It  has  demonstrated 
the  grand  possibility.  And  to  Anglo-Saxon  thought 
a  great  possibility  is  a  great  certainty.  And  now  the 
splendid  dream  that  seemed  fancy,  hath  become  a  great 
fact.  Henceforth,  we  reckon  as  verities,  all  possible 
results  of  this  matchless  achievement.  I  have  no  limits 
to  enumerate  them — they  have  perhaps  been  already 
sufficiently  glorified  in  the  American  pulpit.  The  effects 
upon  the  breadth  of  commerce,  and  the  steadfastness  of 
trade  ;  upon  the  uniformity  of  stock  markets,  and  prices 
current,  at  the  Bourse,  on  the  Royal  Exchange,  in  Third 
Street,  and  Wall  Street ;  upon  the  perfecting  of  an  inter- 
national police,  upon  politics,  and  literature,  and  news, 
and  the  fashions ;  in  a  word — upon  all  the  great  physi- 
cal interests  of  life,  have  been  eloquently  expounded. 
But,  great  as  these  are,  they  are  not  the  greatest.  They 
are  indeed  only  the  radiant  petals  of  a  seed-infolding 
flower,  whose  ripened  fruit  is  in  the  moral. 

A  great  transformation  in  the  conditions  of  national 
life — a  breaking  down  of  the  barriers  of  national  preju- 


TEE    FEAST    OF    EAR  VEST.  295 

dice — a  virtual  union  of  all  races  by  the  ties  of  amity 
and  common  interest — these,  and  such  as  these,  are  to 
be  the  nobler  results  of  this  achievement !  These  magic 
wires,  stretching  over  all  lands,  through  all  waters,  are 
earth's  strong  hearth-cords  ! — making  the  dead  planet  a 
living  creature,  sensitive,  through  every  fibre  of  its 
gigantic  frame,  to  a  rude  touch  anywhere — along  whose 
quivering  nerves  and  throbbing  pulses,  the  great  human 
Heart  shall  beat,  and  the  great  human  Mixd  think  ! 
And  were  our  congratulations,  over  an  event  like  this, 
ill-timed  and  extravagant  ?  What  though  the  lamps 
of  illumination  have  burnt  out ;  and  the  huckstered  stock 
is  at  a  discount ;  and  the  "  time  and  space  "  which  our 
orators  and  poets  so  eloquently  "annihilated,"  yet  stub- 
bornly remain ;  and  the  ocean,  which  for  a  short  hour 
seemed  man's  great  whispering  gallery,  rolls  again  sul- 
lenly voiceless  above  its  hidden  secrets — nevertheless 
we  say,  it  did  become  the  world  to  exult  over  this  new 
and  magnificent  development — this  ripening  into  fruit  of 
one  of  God's  great  thought-flowers! — this  progress  from 
a  weak  germ  into  waving  harvest,  of  one  of  those  stu- 
pendous purposes  whereby  God,  "  dividing  the  water 
courses  for  a  way  for  his  lightnings,"  is  lifting  the  race 
from  the  ancient  thraldom  into  his  own  glorious  liberty, 
and  setting  up,  on  the  ruins  of  old  empires,  the  throne  of 
his  Son  in  triumph  and  foi'ever! 

Now  we  might  multiply  our  illustrations  indefinitely, 
but  our  limits  forbid.  The  thought  is — That,  in  the 
historic  progress  of  the  race,  every  great  philosophic  dis- 
covery passes  slowly,  like  the  germination  and  growth 
of  a  plant,  from  the  embryonic  of  speculative  or  senti- 
mental thought,  to  the  practical  and  useful  of  life's  great 


296  THE    FEAST    OF    EAR  VEST. 

realities.  And  that  in  this  regard,  it  is  our  high  privi- 
lege to  live  in  the  harvest-time.  In  past  generations, 
intellect  has  been  busy  in  a  rudimental  husbandry — 
felling  the  great  forests  ;  draining  the  low  marshes  ;  sub- 
duing the  rugged  soil ;  scattering  the  seed  ;  and  watch- 
ing and  waiting  for  the  increase.  The  old  philosophy  ;  the 
old  civilization  ;  the  old  polities,  civil  and  ecclesiastical ; 
the  old  chivalry  ;  the  old  poetry — these  were  the  thought- 
germs,  the  thought-leaves,  the  thought-blossoms,  which 
have  ripened,  and  are  ripening  around  us  into  God's 
glorious  fruit  ! 

We  live  in  earth's  prodigal  and  luxuriant  autumn  — in 
times  when  marvelous  things  are  the  rule,  and  mean 
things  the  exception — in  an  economy  of  prodigies,  each 
one  a  seeming  miracle  to  men's  earlier  comprehension, 
and  yet  all,  only  the  ripened  development  of  their  own 
thought-germs.  And  if  the  law  of  all  husbandry  be  "to 
sow  in  tears  and  reap  in  joy  " — then  our  thanksgiving, 
that  we  live  in  these  eventful  times,  should  be  unto  God, 
this  day,  a  great  feast  of  harvest ! 

Passing  this,  Ave  observe  once  more  and  finally — 
That  this  same  law  of  development,  we  have  been 
tracing  through  the  Political  and  Intellectual,  will  be 
found  to  rule  in  the  Spiritual — and  in  this  regard 
should  we  mainly  rejoice  that  we  live  in  life's  harvest- 
time. 

From  the  first  rude  altar  at  the  gate  of  Paradise  to 
the  magnificent  Temple  in  Jerusalem,  the  religious  de- 
velopment under  the  old  dispensation  was — like  vege- 
table, life — from  the  shooting  germ  to  the  splendid 
blossom.  But  even  then  it  was  but  a  blossom  !  That 
Levitical  economy,  even  in  its  perfection,  was  only  pre- 


TEE    FEAST    OF    EAR  VEST.  297 

paratory  to  the  evangelical, — a  cumbrous  scaffolding  to 
an  inner  spiritual  building  ! — types  and  shadows,  that 
found  antitype  and  substance  in  Christ  the  Redeemer ! 
Nor  even  with  the  coming  of  Christ  did  the  religious 
progress  end.  Hope,  rather  than  fruition,  was  the  law 
even  of  apostolic  service.  From  the  hour  of  Christ's 
ascension  to  heaven,  the  future — the  magnificent  future  ; 
the  unimagined,  mysterious,  transcendant,  latter-day 
glory — was  that  for  which  faithful  men  waited  and 
labored  and  prayed.  These  men  lived  in  the  GospeVs 
great  seed  time. 

True,  indeed,  there  was  even  from  the  first  a  perpetual 
gathering  of  scattered  bundles  on  the  earth  for  the 
heavenly  garner.  But  the  great  harvest  of  the  race 
delayed  its  coming.  And  yet  that  harvest  must  come, 
yea,  alike  from  prophecy  and  the  signs  of  the  times,  we 
judge  that  even  now  it  is  ripening  around  us. 

No  thoughtful  man  can  have  failed  to  perceive,  as  a 
peculiarity  of  this  generation,  a  grand  awakening  of  the 
human  mind  unto  what  we  may  call  the  Spiritual. 
True,  indeed,  the  set  thitherward  of  the  popular  thought 
seems  ofttimes  in  false  directions.  Our  spiritualized 
philosophy  is  aeronautical,  losing  itself  in  the  clouds, — 
borne  heavenward  by  unsavory  and  inflammable  gases. 
Our  poetry,  under  the  spiritual  afflatus,  has  become 
mystically  spasmodic — uttering  transcendental  nothings, 
very  wild  and  very  watery.  Even  our  popular  Spiritual- 
ism, as  a  religion,  sits  at  the  feet  of  tipping,  rapping, 
trans-speaking,  psychologized  imposture ;  its  man- 
prophets  clairvoyant  and  celestial,  with  a  very  weak  and 
unwholesome  inspiration, — its  woman-prophets  strong- 
minded  and  seraphic,  as  witches  in  Endor. 
13* 


298  THE    FEAST    OF    HARVEST. 

And  yet,  all  these  things,  ludicrous  and  lamentable  as 
they  are,  self-considered,  nevertheless,  as  indications  of 
the  movement  of  the  popular  mind,  ai'e,  to  a  thoughtful 
man,  full  of  moment.  They  are  like  refuse-wood  on  the 
waters,  indicating  the  great  tide-currents  of  thought  to- 
ward a  higher  spirituality, — like  sere  leaves,  falling  in 
a  forest,  signifying  with  their  sad  voices  that  the  au- 
tumn-time is  near,  with  its  grand  gathering  of  harvest. 

Nor  are  these  signs  false.  For,  in  the  midst  of  these 
manifestations,  the  true  Church  of  God  hath  been  wonder- 
fully roused  to  a  new  life  of  spirituality  !  Let  us  look 
as  suspiciously  as  we  will  upon  the  great  revival  of  the 
present  year ;  and  make  what  abatements  we  may,  in 
view  of  false  elements  and  accessories.  Nevertheless,  no 
man  can  fail  to  perceive  a  movement,  unique  and  uni- 
versal in  the  Church,  of  a  power  that  seems  like  a  new 
advent  of  the  Comfortei'.  Nor  will  the  true  student  of 
history  be  likely  to  question  its  permanency. 

Since  Christ  came,  there  have  been  but  three  revival 
seasons  comparable  with  the  present ;  the  old  Pen- 
tecost, in  the  first  century,  the  Reformation  in  the 
sixteenth,  and  the  great  Awakening  in  the  eighteenth ; 
and  each  of  these  was  an  epoch  of  change  in  the 
Church,  not  only  general,  but  permanent.  Each  lifted 
the  Church  to,  and  left  her  in,  a  higher  spiritual  con- 
dition. 

Now,  if  this  be  the  law  of  the  present,  then  Ave  seem 
to  be  drawing  nigh  to  the  great  millennial  day-spring. 
Hitherto  we  have  enjoyed  partial  and  periodic  revi- 
vals ;  but  to-day  the  movement  seems  world-wide.  The 
old  religious  forces  have  been  Divinely  quickened. 
Through    the    old    channels    Divine    grace   is   flowing 


TEE    FEAST    OF    EAR  VEST.  299 

as  a  spring-time  flood,  till  the  banks  arc  overflowed 
with  the  waters  of  salvation ;  and  sectarianism,  that 
■went  forth  of  old  to  dig  separate  rills  for  its  own 
feeble  vine,  sits  now  exulting  in  the  great  wave  of 
salvation  that  waters  into  strength  the  whole  glorious 
vineyard. 

A  new  law  of  Christian  progress  has  come.  The 
silent  power  of  this  revival,  its  signal  permanency,  its 
seemingly  universality ;  the  desire,  the  hope,  the  fixed 
purpose,  under  God,  that  it  shall  remain  permanent 
and  universal;  all  these  give  it  the  seeming  of  the 
dawn  of  the  world's  great  harvest. 

Let  a  man  walk  through  the  husbandry  of  a  land, 
and  find,  here  and  there,  a  small  field,  wherein  are  a 
few  ripened  and  scattered  ears,  and  he  regards  them 
as  the  premature  fruits  of  a  shallow  soil,  or  an  untem- 
pered  sun,  and  reads  therein  no  sure  sign  of  the  golden 
autumn.  But  if,  on  the  contrary,  as  he  walks  abroad, 
he  finds  the  whole  land  roused  by  a  common  impulse 
— if  every  hamlet  is  noisy  with  men  who  sharpen  the 
sickle  and  drive  the  wain  afield — if  all  the  sunny 
mountain  slopes  are  vocal  with  the  song  of  the  grape- 
gatherers,  and  the  mower's  scythe  gleams  in  every  val- 
ley, and  reapers  bind  the  yellow  sheaves  in  all  the  great 
corn-fields — then  he  feels  sure  that  no  inconsiderable 
and  untimely  growth  is  being  gathered,  but  that  truly 
the  latter  rains  have  fallen,  and  autumnal  suns  have 
warmed  the  broad  earth,  and  that  this  song  of  girded 
men  is  the  great  hymn  of  harvest.* 

And  just  so  do  the  signs  of  the  present  times — this 

*  Preached  in  1858. 


300  THE    FEAST    OF    HARVEST. 

universal  expectancy — this  universal  preparation — 
this  universal  labor — this  unwonted  activity  of  earnest 
men,  in  every  village  and  hamlet  in  the  land  to  gather 
fruit  unto  salvation — this  mingling  together  in  the 
toil,  of  all  Christian  sects  in  harmonious  brotherhood 
— this  opening  of  new  fields  of  labor;  new  channels 
of  labor;  new  agencies  of  labor — this  expectation,  in 
all  hearts ;  sometimes  indeed  faint ;  sometimes  strong 
and  exultant;  yet  felt  everywhere,  that  this  Revival- 
state  is  to  become  the  permanent  condition  of  the 
Church's  life — these  arguments,  and  purposes,  and 
prayers,  and  humble,  yet  God-relying  and  steadfast 
determinations,  that  Christianity  shall  not  sink  again 
from  this  quickened  vitality  to  the  old  frames  of 
formal  and  dead  Pharisaism — all  these  things,  I  say, 
seem,  must  seem,  the  results  of  no  local  and  accidental 
causes,  but  the  direct  inspiration  of  the  Divine  Spirit, 
pouring  a  new  life  through  the  old  ecclesiastical 
being — quickening  the  steady,  onward,  majestic  march 
of  God's  redeemed  people,  to  gather  into  one  great 
garner  the  harvests  of  the  world ! 

In  respects,  then,  like  these,  political,  intellectual,  reli- 
gious, we  live  in  times  of  unexampled  blessedness.  "We 
have  come  up  to  Zion  from  hills  purple  with  vintage,  and 
valleys  golden  with  corn,  in  the  rapturous  harvest-home 
of  the  mortal!  And  it  becomes  us  to  keep  festival  be- 
fore God  as  the  old  Jew  kept  his  Pentecost.  As  men,  as 
patriots,  as  philanthropists,  as  Christians,  our  cup  of  joy 
mantles  brightly.  What  more  could  God  have  done  for 
us  that  he  hath  not  done  ?  What  people  can  be  happy 
before  God,  if  we  are  not  happy  ?  The  spirit  of  itn- 
thankfulness,  that,  in   an  hour  like  this,  presents  itself 


TITE    FEAST    OF    HARVEST.  301 

before  the  Lord,  must  have  come  from  wandering  up  and 
down  in  the  earth,  like  Job's  Satan.  It  is  the  monstrous 
demon  of  discontent  that  drove  the  poor  Gadarene  from 
the  fair  face  of  nature,  and  the  loving  voices  of  his  home, 
to  cut  his  flesh  with  stones,  and  abide  in  the  tombs  ;  and 
it  ought  to  be  cast  out  into  the  wandering  swine  and 
the  roaring  waters. 

Oh,  how  happy  we  ought  to  be  before  the  Lord  to- 
day !  The  man  who  complains  now,  must  be  that  very 
Goliath  of  unrest,  Avhose  discontent  feeds  upon  God's 
mercies — whose  eyes  are  like  the  owls',  pained  only  by 
life's  brightness — and  who  grumbles  the  most  grandly, 
just  and  only  because  he  hath  nothing  to  grumble  at ! 

We  do  not  say  that  there  may  not  be  troubled  hearts 
here.  Oh,  no  indeed  !  For  we  know  too  well  how  life's 
roses  have  thorns,  and  life's  music  its  undertones  !  We 
know  how  some  of  you  have  come  up  to  God's  house  from 
homes  made  sad  by  bereavements.  Your  stream  in  the 
desert  hath  been  embittered  like  Marah  !  Your  garden 
of  life  darkened  like  Gethsemane!  And  yet  we  know  as 
well,  that  even  unto  you,  God  hath  not  forgotten  to  be 
gracious.  There  was  a  sweetening  branch  by  the  desert 
spring ;  and  a  strengthening  angel  in  the  garden's 
shadow  !  And  the  pulses  of  your  stricken  hearts  bound 
in  grateful  love  unto  your  sustaining  and  comforting 
Redeemer ! 

Sure  I  am,  there  should  be  no  thankless  hearts  to-day 
in  the  assembly  of  God's  people.  Unto  no  creatures  out 
of  heaven,  hath  there  ever  been  accorded  a  lot  like  our 
lot.  Living  here,  in  this  nineteenth  century,  free  men, 
free  Christians — we  seem  to  stand  on  the  very  mount  of 
God,  flung  up  in  the  waste  of  ages,  for  the  enthronement 


302  TEE    FEAST    OF    HARVEST. 

of  his  great  man-child  !  We  look  backward^  and  lo  !  all 
the  past  has  been  working  together  for  our  national  and 
individual  beatitude. 

Patriarchs,  prophets,  bards,  sages,  mighty  men,  con- 
querors, have  all  been  our  servants.  Generation  after 
generation,  that  have  lived  and  died — great  empires,  that 
have  risen  and  flourished,  and  trod  imperial  paths,  and 
passed  away  forever,  seem  to  rise  from  their  old  death- 
dust,  and  march  in  vision  before  us,  laying  down  all 
their  accumulated  thoughts,  and  arts,  and  honors — all 
the  trophies  of  their  mighty  triumphs  in  homage  at  our 
feet !  We  look  forward^  and  the  eye  is  dazzled  with  the 
vision  of  the  glory  about  to  be  accorded  to  God's  kingly 
creature,  Man  !  when  standing  upon  this  redeemed 
world,  he  shall  assert  his  birthright — a  child  of  God 
here  !  an  hew  of  God  forever  ! 

Verily,  we  have  cause  for  thanksgiving.  "  Tlie  Lord 
hath  done  great  things  for  us,  ichereof we  are  glad.'''' 

Let  us  give,  then,  free  course  to  our  grateful  emotions  ! 
Thankful  for  the  present,  trustful  for  the  future ;  let  us 
rejoice  before  God  "with  the  joy  of  harvest."  As  the 
old  Hebrew  husbandman  came  with  his  offering  of  first- 
fruits,  forgetting,  in  his  present  moods  of  joy,  all  past 
disquietudes — the  weary  toil  of  the  seed-time,  and  watch- 
ing time — the  wild  storm ;  the  seething  rain ;  the  chill- 
ing blight ;  the  devouring  insect — forgetting  these,  or 
remembering  them  only  to  deepen  his  sense  of  that 
Divine  goodness  which,  in  spite  of  them  all,  had  brought 
the  full  corn  to  the  earing.  So  let  us,  forgetful  of  all 
past  trials  and  disquietudes — all  shadows  that  darkened 
our  sunshine — all  storms  that  troubled  our  waters  — 
all  financial  reverses — all  political  and  partisan  jealousies 


THE    FEAST    OF    HARVEST.  303 

— all  ecclesiastical  and  sectarian  strife — forgetting  all 
these,  or  remembering  them  only  as  new  reasons  for 
present  thankfulness — turning  from  all  shadows  of  old 
griefs ;  from  all  valleys  of  sadness,  if  thitherward  have 
wandered  our  pilgrim  feet ;  and  coming  up,  this  morn- 
ing, to  the  serene  mountain-top,  where  the  sun  shines, 
and  the  dews  of  heaven  lie  fair  and  sweet ;  only  mindful 
of,  and  thankful  for,  the  present  hours  of  joy  !  Like  the 
mariner,  that,  with  his  bark  anchored  for  a  brief  day,  goes 
ashore  to  his  children's  cottage  on  the  hills  !  Like  the 
warrior,  that,  released  for  an  hour  from  the  stern  bivouac 
and  battle,  unbraces  his  cumbrous  mail  and  pitches  his 
tent  with  the  husbandman  ! — thus  standing  together  on 
earth's  high  places,  let  us  be  strong  and  rejoice  in  the 
loving  kindness  of  God  !  And  when  here  in  our  chosen 
sanctuary,  as  the  Jew  on  Mount  Zion,  we  have  paid  our 
solemn  vows,  and  rendered  our  first  fruits  of  love  to  God 
in  a  living  consecration — then,  as  that  same  Jew  returned 
to  his  distant  heritage,  filling  the  soft  airs  of  Palestine 
with  glad  songs,  and  waking  the  echoes  of  its  landscapes 
with  bounding  feet ;  so  let  us  get  us  again  to  our  homes — 
these  earthly  dwellings  as  truly  God's  gift  as  those  pos- 
sessions in  Canaan — these  homes  hallowed  by  Divine 
goodness ;  by  the  voices,  the  ministries,  the  gentle  looks 
of  love;  by  memorials,  tenderly  sad  it  may  be,  but  cher- 
ished and  heavenly,  of  the  beloved  dead — to  these  fire- 
sides where  children  play ;  these  boards  where  kinsfolk 
gather;  driving  out  every  reptile  of  discontent,  every 
bird  of  evil  omen  from  our  bowers  of  peace ;  hanging  the 
heavenly  lamp  of  Hope  from  our  lowly  lintel — our  hearts, 
like  the  lark  that,  having  first  soared  to  the  sky  to  war- 
ble its  praise  around  the  portals  of  the  temple  of  heaven, 


304  THE    FEAST    OF    HARVEST. 

sinks  again,  softly  and  gladly,  to  its  nest  of  love  in  the 
dewy  grass !  So  let  us  go  down  from  our  Zion,"  as  the 
Jew  from  the  mount  of  God  to  his  own  humbler  dwell- 
ing, in  glens  of  vine  and  olive,  or  valleys  golden  with 
corn — peaceful,  joyous,  thankful  for  the  present  •  and  for 
the  future,  full  of  faith,  of  hope;  looking  forward  to  that 
hour — to  some  of  us  bo  near — when,  in  the  great  Autumn 
of  Time,  gathered  by  angel-reapers,  borne  by  God's  flam- 
ing chariot  to  such  a  harvest-home  as  no  husbandman 
ever  knew !  we  shall  take  our  joyous  way  up  through 
these  lustrous  heavens,  along  yon  starry  paths,  through 
those  gates  of  pearl,  through  those  golden  streets, 
through  those  portals  of  the  many  mansions — that  there 
— in  that  Eternal  Temple ;  in  those  blissful  homes  where 
this  mortal  love  puts  on  immortality — there,  with  the 
beloved  dead ;  with  the  countless  midtitude  bearing 
palms  and  white  robes ;  with  angel  and  archangel  before 
the  throne ;  we  may  keep  unto  God — 

A  Great  Feast  of  Harvest. 


THE   YOUNG  MAN'S   MISSION. 


"  Bun,  speak  to  this  young  man.1'' — Zechariah,  ii.  4. 

Zechariah  is,  of  all  the  prophets,  most  remarkable  for 
the  simple,  practical  purpose  with  which  he  employs  the 
grandest  prophetic  symbols.  The  supernatural  ma- 
chinery of  his  book  is  magnificent,  but  its  movement  is 
all  for  manifest  earthly  uses.  The  red  horses,  the  four 
chariots,  the  four  horns,  the  stone  with  seven  eyes,  the 
flying  roll,  the  mighty  angels  among  the  myrtle-trees  ; 
all  these  marvelous  things,  as  directly  as  the  four  cai'pen- 
ters  with  their  implements  of  homely  toil,  have  a  work 
to  do  for  man  on  the  earth  ;  and  thus  the  grandeur  of 
his  imagery  gives  impressiveness  to  the  prophet's  sim- 
plest language. 

Thus  it  is  with  the  text.  It  is  the  speech  of  one  angel 
to  another  angel  in  regard  of  a  young  man  who,  in  sym- 
bolic action  significant  of  Israel's  redemption  and  en- 
largement, was  going  forth  with  a  measuring  line  to  take 
the  length  and  breadth  of  Jerusalem.  With  its  original 
application  we  are  not  at  present  concerned.  We  refer 
to  its  connections  only  to  give  impressiveness  to  the 
exhortation. 

It  was  an  angel  that  uttered  it — probably  the  Jehovah- 
angel.     Certainly  it  was  a  heavenly  voice,  in  all  solemn, 


30G       THE    YOUNG    MAN'S    MISSION. 

loving,  earnest  exhortation,  that  cried  unto  another  angel, 
"  Bun,  speak  to  this  young  man." 

Using  this  text  as  simply  an  accommodation,  it  may- 
have  a  twofold  direction  : — 

First,  to  myself,  as  preaching  to  young  men. 

Secondly,  to  you,  as  young  men  and  Christians. 

First  :  As  addressed  to  myself,  it  is  an  earnest  exhor- 
tation unto  the  Christian  minister  to  labor  especially  with 
young  men. 

On  this  point  I  shall  not  enlarge.  Of  the  vast  import- 
ance of  the  conversion  of  young  men,  there  is  no  possible 
overestimate.     It  is  important  every  way. 

1st.  Because,  in  most  cases,  if  not  converted  while 
they  are  young,  they  will  never  be  converted.  Divine 
grace,  in  its  very  sovereignty,  operates  according  to  the 
laws  of  our  moral  and  intellectual  nature.  And  as,  phi- 
losophically considered,  religion  demands  in  its  reception 
an  open  heart,  a  believing  mind,  a  tender  conscience  and 
glowing  affection — and  as  these  are  the  prerogatives  of 
youth — so  the  whole  history  of  the  Church  proves  that 
youth  is  the  most  favorable  period  for  religious  impres- 
sion ;  and  that,  following  the  law  of  the  dispensation  of 
the  Spirit,  our  most  earnest  efforts  should  be  for  the  con- 
version of  the  young. 

Meanwhile  this  is  important — 

2dly.  Because  of  the  peculiar  power  of  young  men 
to  accomplish  great  things  for  God  and  their  genera- 
tion. 

Young  men  are  hopeful ;  young  men  are  brave  ;  young 
men  are  fertile  in  invention  :  and  thus  young  men  are 
strong  in  all  qualities  that  secure  earthly  success.     Han 
nibal  at  the  age  of  twenty-five  led  to  victory  the  great 


TEE    YOEECr    MAN'S    MISSION.      307 

armies  of  Carthage.  Alexander  had  conquered  the  world 
and  died  at  the  age  of  thirty-eight.  Charlemagne  at  the 
age  of  thirty  had  made  himself  master  of  the  whole 
French  and  German  empires.  Napoleon  led  his  brilliant 
Italian  campaign  at  twenty-seven,  and  at  thirty-three 
was  emperor  of  France.  William  Pitt  at  twenty-two 
was  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer.  Edmund  Burke  at. 
twenty-five  was  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury.  Byron  at 
twenty-three  was  the  first  poet  of  the  time  and  the  idol 
of  all  England. 

And,  with  occasional  exceptions,  such  is  the  great  law. 
Certainly  the  foundations  of  all  true  greatness  must  be 
laid  in  early  life.  The  energy  of  youth  is  the  world's 
mightiest  influence ;  and  that  influence  is  especially  need- 
ful in  the  Church.  Early  religion  renders  the  Christian 
character  alike  beautiful  and  powerful;  quickening  all 
spiritual  affections,  and  rendering  permanent  all  gracious 
habits.  And  therefore  has  God  ever  been  pleased  to 
pour  his  Spirit  upon  the  young,  and  to  assign  to  young 
men,  in  all  dispensations  of  the  Church,  most  responsible 
stations  and  important  ministries. 

For  these  reasons,  the  text's  first  application  may  be  to 
myself. 

"  Run,  sj)ea/c  to  these  young  men.''''  The  exhortation 
is  to  directness  and  earnestness.  Bo  not  waste  this 
precious  Sabbath  evening  in  philosophic  discourse  and 
idle  declamation.  Speak  as  if  sent  by  this  Jehovah- 
angel — solemnly,  as  if  for  eternity  and  in  the  presence 
of  God.  And  so  I  would  speak  to  you.  You  are  associ- 
ated for  the  grandest  of  all  possible  objects.  Laboring 
for  the  moral  and  religious  well-being  of  young  men, 
you   are  at  once  laying  the  foundations  of  your  State 


308       TEE    7  0  UN  a    MAN'S    MISSION. 

in  the  immovable  principles  of  virtue,  and  advancing 
the  Gospel  to  its  consummation  in  the  conquest  of  the 
world. 

A  glorious  work  is  before  you ;  there  fore  do  it  glori- 
ously. Let  all  your  powers,  in  the  noblest  sense  of  the 
solemn  word,  be  devoted,  consecrated  unto  God.  Aim 
religiously  as  high  as  the  world's  young  men  aim  car- 
nally. Oh,  if  Napoleon  and  Byron  had  been  young 
Christians,  with  their  intensely  earnest  life  consecrated 
to  Jehovah,  and  their  ambition  sanctified  into  zeal  for 
Christ  Jesus ;  then  what  harmonies  like  the  song  of 
angels  had  been  heard  on  the  earth ;  and  what  conquests 
of  kingdoms  and  continents  for  Immanuel  had  been 
recorded  in  heaven!  And  such  should  be  your  aim  and 
and  "it  ion.  Let  the  blazon  on  your  banner  be,  "Ex- 
celsior " — "  Excelsior  " — higher,  higher  !  No  matter  how 
high  ;  even  if  its  flashing  folds  hide  the  stars.  To  save 
immortal  souls ;  to  bless  a  ruined  world ;  to  glorify 
Jehovah :  such  is  your  glorious  work.  And  therefore,  as 
unto  a  ministry  nobler  than  a  king's  or  a  conqueror's,  it 
was  fittingly  a  solemn  voice  out  of  heaven — the  voice  of 
one  angel  crying  unto  another  angel — which  the  prophet 
heard  and  which  the  preacher  would  obey :  "  Run ! 
run,  speak  to  these  young  men  /" 

But  I  have  already  intimated  that  this  application  of 
the  text  is  only  introductory  to  another  we  would  now 
more  at  length  attempt. 

Let  us  then  consider  it — 

Secondly:  As  an  exhortation  addressed  directly  to 
you,  as  a  Young  Mai's  Christian  Association,  and  indi- 
cating one  of  your  most  important  duties — uliu?i,  speak 
to  this  young  man  /" 


THE     YOUNG    MAN'S    MISSION.      309 

Those  words  set  forth  :      The  means,  objects,  and  man- 
ner of  a  great  Christ  in  a   duty, 

1st.  You  have  here  the  means.     "  SjyeaJt  to  the  young 
man."     Use    that,  grand  power  of  articulate  utterance. 
Jt  is  assumed  here  that  you  will  do  good  in  other  ways 
and  in  all  ways — nevertheless  your  most  efficient  power 
over  the  young  men  with  whom  you  labor  will  be  this 
power  of  speech.     Perhaps  you  have  not  considered  this 
point  sufficiently.     Articulate  utterance  is  almost  man's 
finest  gift.     Justly  has  it  been  termed  "  that  which  pre- 
eminently distinguishes  man  from    all  other   creatures; 
the  instincts  of  lower  animals  have  a  closer  resemblance 
to  human  reason  than  their  inarticulate  sounds  have  to 
human   language."      Language   is   that    without   which 
reason  were  but  a  dead  power.     It  is  not  the  mind  but 
the  tongue  that  persuades  most  directly  unto  good  or 
evil.     Language  is  reason,   not  shut  up  in   secret  cham- 
bers, but  walking  forth    with  tremendous  energy  amid 
the  vital  interests  of  the  race. 

Consider  for  a  moment  the  wonderful  title  of  the 
Divine  Son — "  The  Word  !  "  And  so  the  relation  be- 
tween the  absolute  and  revealed  Godhead  is  just  that 
between  thought  in  the  mind  and  the  word  that  ex- 
presses it.  And  as  "  no  man  knoweth  the  Father  save 
he  to  whom  the  Son  shall  reveal  him,"  so  no  man  can 
know  the  reason  save  by  the  revelation  of  speech.  Verily 
speech  is  a  glorious  gift.  It  makes  dead  thoughts  quick 
and  powerful ;  they  rise  up  ;  they  come  forth  as  from  a 
sepulchre;  they  look  upon  us  with  earnest  eyes;  they 
breathe  over  us  their  weird  and  wondrous  magnetism ; 
they  rouse  us  as  visiting  angels  in  glory  and  strength ! 
The  man  you  address  becomes  for  the  time,  as  it  were,  a 


310       THE     70  UN  a    MAN'S    MISSION. 

part  of  you ;  your  spirit  is  wedded  to  his  spirit ;  your 
thoughts  abide  in  his  immortal  chambers  of  imagery, 
pervading,  controlling,  either  for  good  or  for  evil,  his 
very  being. 

And  therefore  it  is  that  God  has  given  his  Gospel  to 
be  proclaimed,  not  so  much  by  written  as  by  spoken  lan- 
guage; and  thus  your  noblest  eiforts  as  a  Christian 
association  must  be  made  by  speech.  "  Run,  speak  to 
this  young  man."  This  is  your  first  and  most  important 
work.  Your  very  title  implies  this — "  An  Association  " 
— an  organization  depending  on  and  calling  into  play 
the  finest  social  qualities  of  your  nature.  Its  design  is  to 
bring  all  the  young  men  you  meet  under  that  mightiest 
of  all  moral  influences,  the  power  of  direct  religious 
conversation.  You  have  hardly  begun  your  Christian 
work  when  you  have  considered  their  wants  and  opened 
reading-rooms  and  lecture-rooms,  and  felt  for  them,  and 
prayed  for  them ;  you  must  speak  to  them. 

As  we  shall  see  more  fully  presently,  your  especial 
mission  is  unto  the  beloved  and  imperiled  youth  in  the 
midst  of  us.  Many  young  men  come  yearly  to  our  great 
cities  with  pure  morals  and  fair  prospects;  yet  released 
from  their  accustomed  social  restraints ;  surrounded  by 
no  domestic  influences ;  compelled  in  their  various 
spheres  of  business  into  companionship  with  all  classes 
of  men ;  perhaps  in  room  or  at  board,  brought  into  com- 
panionship with  evil  "men,  they  thus,  by  a  very  law  of 
their  nature,  become  benumbed  in  their  moral  sensibilities, 
degraded  in  their  tastes,  deadened  in  all  their  religious 
sentiments  and  affections.  At  first,  it  may  be,  they  ap- 
pear in  some  honored  sanctuary  on  the  Sabbath,  but  no 
one  speaks  to  them ;  they  appear  in  another,  and  still  no 


THE     YOUNG    MAN'S    MISSION.      311 

one  speaks  to  them.  They  remember  the  kind  greetings 
and  social  Christian  life  of  the  church  they  left  at  home ; 
and  then  sick  at  heart  and  discouraged,  desert  the  house 
of  God.  Their  Sabbath-days  become  profitless  or  worse. 
The  infidel  lecture,  the  spiritual  circle,  the  gambling 
house,  the  theatre,  allure  them.  Presently  you  find  them 
in  all  places  of  evil  concourse,  and  then  in  a  prison  cell, 
or  in  a  drunkard's  grave. 

Now  to  preserve  or  rescue  such  young  men  from  the 
perils  of  this  destructive  social  intercourse  is  a  great, 
indeed,  the  greatest  work  of  this  Christian  Association, 
and  it  is  to  be  done  thoroughly  and  efficiently  only  by  this 
power  of  association  and  conversation.  "  By  running 
and  speaking  to  them."  This  is  your  means — speech; 
human  speech  ;  the  immeasurable  grace  and  power  of 
appropriate  language.  These  young  men  are  with  you, 
before  you,  all  around  you.  " Hun,  speak  to  them;" 
"  speak  to  them." 

And  this  leads  me  more  carefully  and  at  length  to 
consider — 

2dly.   The  objects  of  your  labor. 

As  we  have  already  said,  they  are  young  men  in 
general.  But  the  language  of  the  text,  you  will  observe, 
is  exceedingly  particular.  "  Run,  speak  to  this  young 
man."  And  enlarging  on  this  thought,  let  me  direct 
your  attention  to  some  distinct  classes  of  young  men  with 
whom  you,  as  an  Association,  are  called  earnestly  to 
labor. 

1.  And  partly  repeating  what  I  have  just  said,  let  me 
mention  in  general  that  whole  class  of  young  men  who 
have  just  come  among  you.  The  simple  fact  that  they 
are  strangers  recommends  them  to  your  warmest  sympa- 


312       TUB    YOUNG    MAN'S    MISSION. 

thies.  In  most  cases  fresh  from  the  shelter  of  it  father's 
house  and  the  watch  of  a  mother's  love,  with  their  hearts, 
like  a  bursting  flower,  open  to  all  surrounding  influences, 
they  are  peculiarly  exposed  to  the  arts  of  the  destroyer. 
And  with  such  young  men  you  should  begin  instantly  to 
labor.  Gather  around  them  at  once  a  strong  Christian 
influence.  No  longer  does  a  father's  prayer  strengthen 
them  in  the  morning  to  brave  the  day's  temptations ;  no 
longer  do  mother  and  sister  watch  to  welcome  them  from 
their  labor  as  day  declines  ;  and  God  has  called  you  to 
fling  a  brother's  shield  of  proof  between  those  open 
hearts  and  the  fiery  arrows  of  the  enemy — to  speak  to 
these  young  men,  gently,  earnestly,  lovingly.  Become 
acquainted  with  them.  Invite  them  to  your  Association  ; 
its  reading-room ;  its  lectures ;  its  evening  assemblies. 
Take  them  with  you  to  some  circle  of  refined  social  life. 
And  above  all,  lead  them  to  your  place  of  prayer  in  the 
sanctuary.  Do  it  earnestly ;  do  it  instantly.  uMun ! 
run,  speak  to  them  /"  ,  . 

Do  not  wait  for  a  future  time  and  a  more  convenient 
season.  Already  the  tempter  is  laying  snares  for  his 
victims.  The  wine-cup,  the  card-table,  the  theatre ;  these 
things  and  worse  are  around  them.  Alas !  alas,  for  the 
power  wherewith  sin  allures  the  unwary.  At  first  the 
young  heart  shrinks  from  sin  as  from  degradation  and 
defilement.  To  break  deliberately  a  great  law  of  God 
seems  as  terrible  as  to  rush  into  destruction  amid  the 
awful  forces  of  nature — to  brave  a  volcano  or  a  cataract ! 
But  alike  in  the  moral  and  the  physical,  familiarity  with 
the  danger  weakens  the  dread. 

Years  ago  a  young  civil  engineer  surveying  a  great 
national  road,  came  upon  the  Niagara  River  some  miles 


THE    YOUNG    MAN'S    MISSION.      313 

below  the  cataract.  Carefully  he  approached  the  pre- 
cipitous bank  and  looked  over;  and  as  he  saw,  hundreds 
of  feet  below,  the  wild  torrent,  rushing  and  roaring 
through  the  mighty  chasm,  dashing  its  breakers  twenty 
feet  high  against  its  adamantine  barriers,  he  recoiled 
disheartened,  affrighted.  Here  seemed  a  physical  ordi- 
nance of  Heaven,  that  he  could  not — dare  not  pass.  But 
as  he  considered  he  grew  bolder.  He  might  cross  it ; 
he  would  cross  it.  Presently  you  find  him  pledging 
himself  to  the  company  concerned  in  the  road  that,  on 
certain  conditions,  he  would  at  the  expiration  of  a  twelve- 
month drive  a  harnessed  horse  right  over  the  abyss. 
The  conditions  were  agreed  to.  Then  he  approached  the 
precipice.  With  a  child's  kite  he  bore  a  small  cord  to 
the  far  side  ;  with  that  a  stronger  cord  was  carried  over ; 
then  a  rope  ;  then  a  great  cable  ;  and  then  granite  piers 
were  raised,  supporting  iron  cables,  whereon  to  lay  tim- 
bers. 

The  twelvemonth  passed ;  and  though  the  work  was 
unfinished,  yet  the  man's  fears  were  gone.  He  was 
bound  to  keep  his  promise.  A  single  row  of  planks  lay 
along  the  half  appointed  wires,  without  guard  or  balus- 
trade. He  appeared  with  his  harnessed  horse  on  the 
brink,  and  though  the  creature  trembled  in  every  limb, 
and  the  planks  shook  at  the  tread,  and  the  frail  road- 
way swayed  in  the  strong  wind,  yet  with  an  iron  will 
and  hand  the  fearless  driver  forced  it  on,  and  over  that 
terrible  path.  And  to-day,  behold  !  how  the  immense 
commerce  of  two  nations,  and  the  wealth  and  fashion  of 
all  lands,  rush  thoughtlessly,  fearlessly  over  that  grand 
barrier  of  nature,  filling  all  the  air  with  the  hum  of 
industry,  and  the  joyous  songs  of  pleasure. 
14 


314      THE     YOUNG     VAX'S    MISSION. 

And  not  unlike  this  is  the  moral  experience  of  the 
young  in  the  progress  of  evil.  To-day,  fresh  from  the 
influences  of  a  Christian  home,  yonder  youth  recoils  from 
an  open  violation  of  a  Divine  law  as  from  certain  de- 
struction. Sabbath-breaking,  intemperance,  gambling, 
profaneness,  impurity ;  these  forms  of  evil  lie  at  his  feet, 
as  deep,  broad  caverns,  through  which  the  flood  of 
God's  consuming  indignation  rolls  terribly.  But  alas  ! 
familiarity  with  a  danger  beguiles  it  of  its  terrors.  To- 
night that  youth  may  be  gazing  with  strange  fascination 
on  the  wild  torrent.  To-morrow  a  silken  thread  of 
desire  may  span  the  abyss  ;  and  then  with  the  whole 
noisy  and  profane  crowd  he  may  be  lashing  his  passions 
over  it  in  mad  career !  And  surely  with  one  so  fearfully 
imperiled  you  have  no  time  to  waste.  Be  instant,  there- 
fore, with  every  young  stranger  who  appears  among  you. 
Obey  the  text  literally.  "Run!  run!  run!  speak  to 
these  young  men  /" 

Here  your  work  should  begin.  Yet  it  should  not  end 
here.  You  are  associated  not  only  that  you  may  preserve 
the  virtuous,  but  that  you  may  reclaim  the  vicious. 
Descending  therefore  more  particularly  to  the  objects  of 
your  labor,  I  mention — 

2.  Tlie  young  man  beginning  to  associate  with  evil 
companions. 

The  town  is  full  of  such.  No  sooner  does  a  youth 
appear  among  you  than  he  is  like  an  inexperienced  insect 
moving  amid  the  invisible  meshes  of  a  destroyer.  The 
friendships  that  chance,  or  promiscuous  boarding-houses, 
or  even  business  circles,  throw  in  his  way,  are  oftenest 
evil.  There  is  the  pitiful  idler,  who  would  allure  him 
from  diligent  labor.     The  fashionable  young  man,  teach- 


THE     YOUNG    MAN'S    MISSION.      315 

ing  him  to  waste  money  on  finery.  The  spendthrift, 
encouraging  him  to  live  beyond  his  means — thus  compel- 
ling him  to  resort  to  false  entries  and  robbery.  The 
dishonest  employer,  constraining  him  to  violate  his  con- 
science in  the  miserable  tricks  of  worldly  competition. 
The  openly  profane  and  impure  man,  leading  him  to 
darker  dens  of  intemperance  and  infamy.  There,  in 
short,  is  the  whole  fearful  legion  of  "corrupters  of 
youth"  whose  delight  is,  by  the  infernal  magnetism  of 
ruin,  to  draw  the  young  heart  into  vice.  Alas  !  alas  ! 
how  thickly  cluster  these  fiends  around  the  paths  of  the 
unwary  !  How  soon  the  infection  takes,  and  virtue  melts 
in  the  chemistries  of  iniquity !  And  with  young  men 
beginning  to  yield  to  the  evil,  is  your  especial  ministry. 
Go,  speak  to  them.  Tell  them  the  history  of  iniquity  in 
these  cities.  Point  them  to  the  wrecks  of  character 
which  whiten  all  the  shores  of  this  mighty  stream  of 
life.  Tell  them  of  a  father's  prayer  ;  a  mother's  love. 
"Speak  to  them."  Hun,  speak  to  them !  Instantly, 
earnestly.  Now,  now  is  your  opportunity.  The  white- 
winged  bird  is  already  settling  into  the  fowler's  snare. 
To-morrow  the  lustrous  plumes  will  be  soiled — the  strong 
wing  broken — the  glorious  immortality  corrupted  and 
lost ! 

Passing  this,  I  mention — 

3.   The  skeptical  young  man. 

Perhaps  you  yourselves  are  hardly  aware  of  the  pow- 
erful temptations  to  infidelity  that  surround  the  youth 
of  this  generation.  This  trashy  literature,  with  its  sense- 
less sensations ;  this  pretentious  science,  with  its  prema- 
ture inductions — reek  with  the  infection.  Even  the 
popular  theology,  desiring   only  to  be  popular,  and  so, 


316       TEE    TO  UNO    MAN  S    MISSION. 

ignoring  God's  grandest  and  most  solemn  truths,  that  it 
may  commend  itself  to  carnal  instincts,  is  destroying  the 
young  heart  and  conscience.  This  very  custom  of  sepa- 
rating young  men  from  their  families  to  attend  courses 
of  Sabbath  lectures,  has  at  least  this  evil :  it  induces 
habits  of  wandering,  which  lead  ofttimes  into  places 
where  the  truth  is  not  taught ;  where,  perhaps,  cavils 
against  the  Bible  are  urged,  and  infidel  doubts  insin- 
uated. 

And  thus,  in  one  form  or  another,  breathing  for  the 
whole  seven  days  of  the  week  the  sickening  malaria, 
many  a  young  man's  religious  nature  deteriorates. 
Presently  you  miss  him  from  God's  sanctuary ;  he 
substitutes  for  his  mother's  Bible  these  vile  Sunday 
newspapers.  Then  you  hear  him  insinuating  his  own 
infidel  theories  ;    uttering  his  own  unbelief. 

Now  with  such  young  men  you  should  earnestly  labor. 
If  you  find  them  troubled  with  honest  doubts  on  religious 
questions  which  you  can  not  remove,  then  lead  them  to 
the  thousand  men  around  you,  who,  having  made  these 
cavils  their  study,  and  perhaps  come  up  themselves  from 
the  terrible  darkness  of  unbelief  into  the  clear  and  ever- 
brightening  light  that  shines  in  the  face  of  a  revealed 
God,  can  show  them  that  even  the  profoundest  scientific 
infidelity  is  a  thing  of  false  inductions,  and  that  all  this 
noisy  and  arrogant  infidelity,  paraded  in  popular  litera- 
ture and  infidel  stances,  has  been  answered  so  fully  and 
so  often  that  to  advance  its  objections  again  is  only  to 
parade  a  man's  ignorance  or  stupidity. 

Or,  if  you  find  them,  like  the  great  multitude  of  infi- 
dels, swayed  only  by  low,  mean,  carnal  instincts,  and 
struggling   in  face  of  their   own  convictions    to   grow 


THE     YOUNG    MAN'S    MISSION.      317 

strong  in  unbelief,  that  they  may  walk  fearlessly  in  evil 
Mays,  still  do  not  give  these  men  up.  Plead  with  them. 
Pray  with  them.  Lead  them  back  to  the  holy  sanc- 
tuary; to  their  mother's  Bible;  to  their  lather's  God! 
As  if  you  saw  them  lifting  a  poison-cup — rushing  upon 
a  precipice  !  Speak  to  them  !  "Hun  !  run,  and  speak  to 
them  !  " 

Leaving  these,  consider — 

4.  Tliose  young  men  whose  lives  are  already  practically 
immoral. 

I  have  no  limits  for  details  here.  In  every  style  and 
strength  of  iniquity  such  characters  abound  here.  And 
although  our  language  in  regard  of  them  often  is,  "Let 
such  young  men  alone,  you  can  do  litem  no  good"  yet  it 
is  very  foolish — yea,  very  sinful  language.  You,  as 
Christian  young  men,  have  no  right  to  let  any  sinful 
man  alone,  whose  probation  God  hath  not  ended.  Unto 
Buch  young  men  is  your  especial  ministry.  In  this, 
Christ  himself  is  your  pattern  :  "  Not  sent  to  call  the 
righteous  but  sinners  to  repentance.''''  Whatever  be  the 
man's  dangerous  or  even  sinful  habit,  "Run,  speak  to 
him." 

He  is  a  profane  man.  Then  speak  to  him  kindly,  gen- 
tly, earnestly.  Ask  him  if  he  has  considered  who  that 
great  and  glorious  God  is  whose  awful  name  he  is  blas- 
pheming. 

He  is  a  Sabbath-breaker — losing  all  the  inestimable 
moral  and  intellectual  benefits  which  God  has  connected 
with  a  right  observance  of  his  hallowed  day,  under  the 
plea  of  "  needful  recreation,'''' — as  if  a  rest  from  bodily 
labor  were  all  the  refreshment  a  man  needs !  As  if  a 
true  Sabbath  had  not  its  highest  mission  to  his  moral 


3 1 S       TUB    Y 0  UN 0    M  A  N  '  8    JUS SIO N. 

nature!  As  if  God  made  a  mistake  at  the  first  in  not 
creating  him  cither  a  beast  or  a  butterfly  ! 

lie  is  a  dishonest  man — overreaching  in  his  business; 
unscrupulous  in  his  statements  ;  unreliable  in  his  engage- 
ments ;  and.  rapidly  losing  among  men  all  reputation  for 
integrity. 

He  is  an  impure  man.  He  curls  his  lip  when  men  talk 
of  goodness  and  virtue,  and  all  life's  social  and  domestic 
affections. 

Or,  if  he  be  not  thus  or  otherwise  openly  and  notori- 
ously evil,  he  is  yet  manifestly  entering  those  courses 
which  are  likely  to  make  him  so. 

He  may  be  becoming  intemperate.  Perhaps  he  thinks 
himself  in  no  danger.  "  Oh,"  he  says,  "  I  am  not  such  a 
fool  as  to  become  an  inebriate  ;  I  have  too  much  self- 
respect,  too  true  a  pride  of  personal  character."  Never- 
theless the  fell  symptoms  are  upon  him.  He  loves  that 
gilded  saloon.  He  rejoices  in  pretexts  for  temperate 
drinking.  He  seeks  occasions  of  social  conviviality.  In- 
sensibly, it  may  be,  to  himself,  but  quite  obviously  to 
you,  he  is  yielding  to  the  insidious  power  of  that  terrible 
habit ;  he  is  on  the  outer  circle  of  the  dread  whirlpool. 
Unwarned  now,  and  in  all  likelihood  he  will  perish. 
Some  men,  indeed,  do  not.  Said  an  honored  man  to  his 
friend,  "I  have  drunk  wine  freely  every  day  for  fifty 
years,  and  am  to-day  both  temperate  and  healthy." 
"  But,"  said  his  friend,  "  where  are  your  companions  ?" 
"  Oh,"  replied  he,  "  that  is  another  thing ;  I  have  outlived 
two  o-enerations  of  them  !"  I  am  not  here  delivering  a 
temperance  lecture.  There  is  a  vast  amount  of  cant — 
of  declamation  worse  than  wasted,  about  the  wickedness 
of  wine-drinking,  and  the  prevention  of  grape-culture. 


THE    YOViYG    MAN'S    MISSION'.      319 

That  our  blessed  Saviour  made  wine  for  a  marriage  feast, 
should  settle  that  controversy.  But  I  am  speaking  of 
young  men  seeking  the  perilous  excitement  of  strong 
drink.  And  I  say  there  is  danger.  Already  is  the  im- 
mortal bark  yielding  to  the  power  of  the  terrible  vortex  ! 
And  unto  them  you  have  a  mission.  Speak  to  them 
gently,  lovingly.  Tell  them  of  their  need  in  business  of 
a  healthy  body  and  a  clear  intellect.  Explain  to  them 
the  law  of  growth  in  any  unnatural  pleasure.  Or,  if 
need  be,  lift  up  your  voice  like  a  trumpet.  Cry : 
"  Awake  !  awake  !  Spread  the  sail !  Ply  the  oar !  Escape 
for  your  life  !"  "  Run,  speak  to  them.  Run,  speak  to 
them." 

Or,  perhaps  the  young  man  is  beginning  to  spend  his 
leisure  hours  at  such  places  of  amusement  as  the  theatre, 
the  circus,  the  race-course,  the  card-table.  Now,  I  am 
not  here  either  puritanically  to  denounce  such  things,  or 
philosophically  to  oppose  them.  Unquestionably  many 
good  men  go  to  them — unquestionably  many  foolish 
things  are  uttered  against  them.  I  am  only  speaking 
now  of  their  tendency  to  lead  young  men  into  evil  ;  a 
tendency  compensated  by  no  possible  good.  It  is  said, 
indeed,  that  "  the  race-course  improves  the  breed  of 
horses" — and  so  the  bull-fight  improves  the  breed  of 
neat-cattle  ;  but  neither  tends  very  powerfully  to  improve 
the  character  of  their  patrons.  Even  granting,  what  is 
at  least  questionable,  that  simple  speed  adds  to  the  use- 
fulness of  the  horse,  yet  the  grand  objection  yet  remains, 
that  the  race-course,  so  powerful  in  making  fast  horses, 
is,  alas  !  quite  as  powerful  in  making  fast  men. 

But  even  more  is  popularly  said  in  favor  of  the  theatre/ 
and  yet  every  such  argument  is  a  simple  sophistry. 


320       THE    YOUNG    MAN'S    MISSION. 

"  The  drama  cultivates  the  taste"  says  one.  Yes,  but 
what  kind  of  taste?  A  taste  for  rant,  extravagance, 
affectation.  A  relish  for  worthless,  sensational,  impure 
literature;  for  unnatural,  monstrous,  execrahle  elocution; 
for  a  style  of  words  and  speech  never  tolerated  in  real 
life,  except  occasionally  in  a  Fourth  of  July  oration,  a 
sensation  sermon,  and  an  academic  exhibition  where  a 
boy  "speaks  a  piece."  Let  a  lawyer  address  judge  and 
jury ;  let  a  physician  prescribe  for  a  patient ;  let  a  mer- 
chant salute  his  customers  ;  let  a  husband  speak  to  his 
wife,  or  a  father  to  his  children — let  any  man,  in  short,  in 
common  life,  speak  or  read  in  this  stately,  artificial,  the- 
atrical style: — in  these  exquisitely  modulated  and  pro- 
longed tones,  with  these  carefully  studied  and  imitative 
gestures,  which  constitute  what  theatre-goers  and  teach- 
ers of  elocution  pronounce  "  fine  speaking,"  and  the  world 
would  laugh  at  them  as  lunatics  or  fools.  Among  all 
sensible  men  the  whole  thing  died  out  with  the -dandyism 
of  the  last  generation.  Certainly  no  employer  of  young 
men  desires  either  petit  maitre  or  stage  player  in  his 
counting-room  or  workshop.  Indeed,  I  know  of  few 
things  more  distressing  than  to  see  one  of  these  inno- 
cent young  men  with  poetry  on  the  brain  and  ridden  of 
rhetorical  nightmare,  striving  to  get  the  better  of  the 
honest  voice  God  gave  him  amid  the  pauses  and  inflec- 
tions of  this  excruciating  elocution. 

"  But,"  says  another,  "  at  the  theatre,  and,  indeed,  in  all 
these  places  of  amusement,  we  can  study  human  nature.'''' 

Yes,  and  so  you  might  on  a  slaver's  deck  or  in  a  rob- 
ber's den  ;  just  as  we  might  study  botany  in  a  lion- 
haunted  jungle  and  chemistry  in  the  smoking  crater  of 
a  volcano. 


THE     YOUNG     MAR'S    MISSION.       321 

But  I  have  no  room  for  the  argument.  Enough  for 
my  purpose  now  that  all  such  amusements  waste  time 
and  money,  and  unfit  for  life's  honest  and  every-day 
business.  Let  it  be  known  that  a  young  man  spends  his 
evenings  at  the  theatre  and  his  afternoons  at  the  race- 
course, and  all  avenues  of  business  success  will  be  closed 
against  him.  The  lawyer  will  not  have  him  in  his  office, 
nor  the  merchant  in  his  counting-room;  the  banker  will 
not  trust  him  with  his  gold,  nor  the  druggist  with  his 
medicines.  I  do  not  say  he  will  inevitably  be  ruined. 
Dr.  Kane  survived  an  Arctic  winter,  and  Pliny  a  vol- 
canic eruption ;  yea,  Noah  escaped  the  flood,  and  Lot 
the  fire-storm — and  some  very  good  men  are  patrons  and 
champions  of  all  these  popular  amusements.  But  this  I 
do  know,  that  where  one  young  man  escapes  unharmed, 
twenty  are  injured,  ten  are  destroyed.  Surely  such 
young  men  are  in  peril.  They  recline  amid  flowers 
where  the  serpent  glides;  they  breathe  an  air  loaded 
with  pestilence.  And  as  unto  a  youth  floating  above 
Niagara — standing  on  Vesuvius  when  the  crater  cracks 
and  glows — Run,  speak  to  them.     Run,  speak  to  them. 

But  I  may  not  enlarge.  These  are  only  a  few  of  many 
classes  of  young  men  with  whom  it  is  your  high  calling 
to  labor.  In  general  to  be  ranked  under  two  great  divi- 
sions: 1st.  Virtuous  young  men,  whom  you  are  called  to 
guard.  2d.  Vicious  young  men,  whom  you  are  called 
to  reclaim.  Alike  all  of  them,  immortal  barks  for  which 
you  are  to  watch ;  some  stanch  and  well  manned  yet 
outside  the  Heads  and  needing  the  pilot  boat ;  some 
driven  already  from  their  courses — tempest  tossed  amid 
breakers  and  needing  the  life-boat.  All  alike  having 
heaven's  high  claim  on  your  Christian  sympathies;  and 
14* 


322       THE     YOLTUG    MAR'S    MISSION. 

in  regard  of  all  alike  the  angel's  cry  comes  to  you  this 
night — Run,  speak  to  them.  Run,  speak  to  them. 
Now  1  have  limits  only  very  briefly  to  consider — 
Thirdly  :  The  manner  of  this  labor,  as  set  forth  in 
the  text — "Run!  speak  to  this  young  man  •  Run  /  run, 
speak  to  1dm."  The  very  language  implies  haste  and 
earnestness  ;  hut  the  connection  of  the  language  implies 
much  more.  Who  was  it  that  was  thus  earnestly  to 
address  this  youth?  It  was  an  angel!  And  you  can 
not  imagine  an  angel  speaking  even  earnest  warning 
words  save  in  gentleness  and  love.  And  surely  your 
work  with  young  men  should  be  ever  with  the  profound- 
est  wisdom  and  in  the  most  Christian  spirit.  The  extent 
of  your  influence  over  others  will  depend  not  so  much 
upon  your  talents  as  your  discretion.  There  is  a  way  of 
speaking,  even  about  good,  which  is  altogether  evil.  It 
is  not  every  word  spoken,  but  "  the  word  spoken  fitly" 
which  inspiration  magnifies.  Earnest  consideration, 
exquisite  delicacy,  are  especially  necessary  in  doing  good 
with  the  tongue.  So  wide  are  the  differences,  moral, 
sesthetical,  passional,  intellectual,  among  men,  that  to  ap- 
proach them  all  alike  is  to  do  more  evil  than  good.  To 
a  man  asleep  in  a  burning  house  we  cry,  "Au-uke, 
awake!  the  flames  are  around  you!'"  To  a  somnambu- 
list walking  in  a  dream  along  a  house-top,  we  draw  nigh 
with  a  silent,  stealthy  step,  not  daring  even  to  whisper 
till  we  have  drawn  him  back  from  destruction.  So  the 
apostle  Jude  puts  this  very  duty — "  Of  some  have  com- 
passion, making  a  difference  ;  and  others  save  toith  fear, 
putting  them  out  of  the  fire." 

A  great   orator  was   addressing  a  great  crowd,  when, 
in  the  midst  of  an  impassioned  sentence,  he  suddenly 


THE    YOUNG    MAN'S    MISSION.      323 

paused.     He  pressed  his  hand  upon  his  forehead,  as  if 

faint.  lie  said  very  quietly,  "I  must  pause  for  a  mo- 
ment— this  air  is  too  close;  indeed  the  crowd  is  so  great 
that  we  will  adjourn  to  the  open  air;  I  will  sit  down 
and  rest,  while,  as  quietly  as  possible,  you  withdraw — 
and,  to  prevent  confusion  and  at  the  same  time  give  me 
moi'e  air,  let  the  audience  first  remove  from  the  right- 
hand  gallery."  What  did  the  man  mean  ?  In  the  midst 
of  his  speech  he  saw  that  the  pillars  under  that  gallery 
were  yielding  to  the  crushing  weight,  and  that  a  multi- 
tude were  about  to  be  swallowed  up  in  death  !  But  his 
thoughtful  gentleness  saved  them.  An  alarming  outcry 
would  have  been  destruction. 

Verily,  in  this  whole  matter  of  speech  "  wisdom  is 
profitable  to  direct."  There  are  young  men,  and,  alas ! 
as  well  old  ones,  thinking  themselves  called  of  God  to 
be  great  moral  reformers,  who  go  forth  like  old  knights- 
errant  in  iron  armor,  to  pick  quarrel  and  break  lance 
with  every  evil  they  may  meet  in  the  highways  of  the 
land— bent  on  making  a  vast  fuss  generally,  and  caring 
little  whether  it  be  in  a  battle  with  a  giant  or  a  wind- 
mill !  Of  course  I  am  not  advocating  such  work  when  I 
urge  you  to  speak  to  men.  To  take  your  stand  amid 
the  noisy  crowd  in  the  street,  and  tell  every  drunkard 
he  is  going  to  destruction,  and  every  Sabbath-breaker 
that  he  will  sui-ely  be  damned,  will  be  more  likely  to 
cause  you  a  broken  head  than  another  a  broken  heart. 
Christ  calls  a  man  striving  to  win  souls  "  a  fisher  of 
men"  but  it  is  only  a  poor  inferior  kind  of  fish  that  will 
bite  at  a  hook  bated  with  a  scorpion,  or  lie  still  in  the 
bright  sunshine  to  be  transfixed  with  a  spear.  A  rod 
colorless  and  pliant  as  a  reed — a  line  exquisitely  taper- 


324       THE     YOUNG    MAN'S    MISSION. 

ing  to  an  invisible  hair — a  fly  imitating  life  and  falling 
like  thistle-down — a  reel  playing  like  finest  clock-work 
— an  arm  like  a  steel  spring — a  foot  noiseless  as  a  fairy's, 
and  an  eye  like  the  eagle's — all  these  are  needful  to  one 
emulous  in  angling;  and  surely  no  less  skill  and  care 
should  be  his  who  would  fulfill  his  mission  as  "  a  fisher 
of  men."  Enough  on  this  point  just  to  remember  that 
the  model  presented  you  in  the  text  is  the  exquisite  and 
loving  speech  of  an  angel. 

But  then  it  was  an  angel  thoroughly  in  earnest,  and 
as  we  have  said,  the  language  implies  anxious  haste — 
"  ~Rxm,run,  speak  to  them  " — go  forth  to  your  self-deny- 
ing and  glorious  work  with  all  the  power  God  has  given 
you.     Be  instantly,  thoroughly  in  earnest — 

1st.  Because  these  young  men  are  in  imminent  and 
deadly  peril. 

That  young  stranger  sitting  at  your  side  to-night  may 
before  another  sunrise  be  tempted  to  destruction.  There 
is  no  earthly  thing  of  so  rapid  growth  as  the  principle 
of  evil  in  the  heart  of  youth.  With  terrible  rhetoric  did 
the  apostle  write  :  "  Lust  conceiving  bringeth  forth  Sin, 
and  Sin  finished  bringeth  forth  Death."  Here  the 
word  "lust"  denotes  any  natural  desire  inordinately  ex- 
cited. And  only  three  short,  sharp  steps  in  the  prog- 
ress: Desire — Sin — Death.  This  moral  passage  from  a 
grand  but  perverted  impulse  to  destruction,  like  the  pas- 
sage of  a  fated  bark  on  Niagara — first  the  smooth  bright 
stream  sweetly  glassing  heaven's  magnificent  azure ; 
then  the  rushing,  roaring  rapids  ;  then  the  tremendous 
plunge  into  the  yawning  abyss.  Desire — Delirium — 
Death!  So  rapid  the  progress.  To-night  that  immor- 
tal bark  floats  at  your  side — to-morrow  it  may  be  ship- 


THE    Y0U2TG    MAX'S    MISSION.      325 

wrecked  forever;   therefore  he  in    earnest — "Run,  run, 
speak  to  him" 

2d.  Be  in  earnest  because  the  work  itself  is  all-im- 
portant. 

There  is  no  possible  overestimate  of  the  value,  in  a 
community  like  this,  of  such  a  Christian  Association.  Go 
forth  to-night  into  your  great  city  and  look  around  you. 
Alas !  what  multitudes  of  young  men — ay,  and  of  ma- 
ture men  and  little  children — as  verily  without  the  Gospel 
as  the  millions  of  the  heathen ;  and  no  ordinary  means 
of  grace  will  ever  reach  them.  Build  a  hundred  free 
churches  and  they  will  never  enter  them.  There  is  not 
here,  as  in  the  older  States,  a  pervading  Christian  in- 
fluence constraining  to  the  sanctuary  ;  and,  apart  from 
the  few  thousand  regular  or  irregular  church-goers, 
scarcely  an  individual  of  all  this  earnest  and  intelligent 
multitude  ever  hear  a  Gospel-sermon. 

We  are  losing  all  hope  of  saving  this  city  and  this 
State  from  irreligion  and  infidelity,  unless  the  Christian 
young  men  of  these  different  churches  go  forth  together 
to  carry  the  Gospel  to  these  masses,  like  the  primitive 
disciples,  "  going  everywhere  preaching  (i.  e.  speaking) 
the  Word." 

And  for  such  work  God  has  formed  you  and  furnished 
you.  Yours  is  the  open  heart,  the  glowing  affection,  the 
sanguine  spirit,  the  boundless  aspiration,  the  indomitable 
courage,  and  soldiership,  and  hope — the  very  energies,  in 
short  wherewith  Hannibal  and  Alexander  and  Napoleon 
conquered  mighty  armies — the  heroism  and  strength  of 
exulting  youth  !  Mingling  daily  with  this  excited  multi- 
tude, in  the  resistless  gentleness  of  a  Christian  influence 
— in  the  matchless  eloquence  of  simple  Christian  speech, 


326       THE     YOUNG    MAN'S    MISSION. 

you,  and  you  alono,  can  leaven  the  mass  with  godliness. 
What  all  Christian  ministers  are  utterly  powerless  to  do 
— what  these  older  Christians  have  no  heart  to  do — our 
religious  young  men,  if  united  in  loving  labor,  could  do 
— roll  back  this  fearful  tide  of  unbelief  and  ungodliness, 
and  save  our  city  and  our  State  to  humanity  and  God. 

I  have  no  words  to  express  my  sense  of  the  importance 
of  your  ministry.  Surely,  it  is  a  work  second  to  none 
under  heaven.  Oh,  truthful  vision  of  the  text  —  one 
angel  crying  to  another  angel !  and  this  the  burden  of 
the  heavenly  eloquence:  " Run,  speak  to  this  young 
man." 

Would  that  the  angel  were  here  to  utter  again  the 
angelic  exhortation;  how  earnest  would  be  the  heavenly 
words  in  behalf  of  our  churches,  our  city,  our  world. 
We  want  you  all  thoroughly  aroused  to  your  high  call- 
ing, as  Christ's  own  chosen  co-laborers  in  seeking  the 
wandering  and  saving  the  lost.  Moderation  is  good  in 
its  place,  and  patience  and  conservatism  are  beautiful  in 
their  season ;  but  the  times  in  which  we  live  have  too 
much  of  a  miserable  counterfeit  conservatism,  made  up 
of  timidity  and  selfishness.  Our  2">opular  Christianity  has 
too  many  anchors  and  brakes.  We  want  more  wind  in 
the  sails,  more  steam  at  the  engine.  Apostolic  modera- 
tion was  a  flaming  ministry  unto  men  that  drove  the  in- 
spired man  forth  through  shipwrecks  and  imprisonments 
and  deaths,  seemingly  beside  himself  under  the  con- 
straining love  of  Jesus;  and  our  age  calls  for  that  old 
apostolic  life,  that  old  fiery  b;iptism.  The  angel  bids  us 
speak  to  you  in  behalf  of  this  great  city,  which,  accord- 
ing as  you  labor  for  it,  may  become  beautiful  as  Zion, 
beloved  of  angels,  or  terrible  as  Edom,  the  city  of  Death. 


THE    YOUNG    MAN'S    MISSION.      327 

In  behalf  of  this  marvelous  land,  goodly  as  the  old  hind 
of  promise,  yet  beneath  which  lie  powers  that,  if  roused 

by  Divine  indignation,  may  open  for  it  another  Asphal- 
tites;  in  behalf  of  a  great  nation;  in  behalf  of  a  ruined 
world —  the  angel  bids  us  speak  to  you  of  a  coming 
judgment,  of  a  glorious  eternity,  where  every  soul 
saved  by  your  work  for  Christ  shall  be  as  a  gem  of  im- 
mense price  in  your  crowns  of  rejoicing— of  that  Saviour 
who  for  you  left  his  own  eternal  Throne  and  the  bosom 
of  his  Father  and  all  heaven's  ineftable  raptures,  and  just 
that  you  might  be  saved,  shrunk  from  no  load,  no  sacri- 
fice, no  suffering;  and  our  cry  is,  "liise,  go  forth,  work 
for  your  (rod  and  your  generation?"* 

Look  around  you  on  the  Christian  Church  this  day, 
against  which  even  now  rises  the  wildest,  mightiest 
array  of  unbelief  and  ungodliness  the  world  ever  saw; 
and  yet  in  behalf  of  dying  men  doing  what?  Alas! 
reposing  with  folded  hands  and  a  placid  brow,  soothed  by 
sweet  music,  dreaming  about  the  glorious  millennium — 
the  second  coming  of  Christ. 

How  the  Church  of  God  must  look  in  the  midst  of  a 
lost  world — "  a  spectacle  to  angels." 

You  have  all  read  the  fairy  tale :  A  great  Eastern  city, 
beleaguered  by  fierce  foemen,  was  arming  in  resistless 
strength,  to  issue  from  her  gates  and  sweep  away,  as  a 
driving  tempest  the  chaff,  the  insolent  invader.  But 
from  the  camp  of  the  foe  came  forth  a  mighty  magician, 
and  with  the  breath  of  his  sorcery  changed  the  whole 
city  into  stone.  Every  thing  wherein  life  had  been  became 
a  cold,  dead  statue.  There  stood  the  pawing  war-horse, 
with  nostril  distended,  caparisoned  for  battle.  There 
stood  the  mailed  champion,  ready  to  spring  to  his  seat 


328       THE    YOUNG    MAN'S    MISSION. 

and  lay  lance  in  rest  for  the  onset.  But,  alas  !  the 
strong  arm  was  cold  stone  on  the  neck  of  the  petrified 
charger.  There  stood  the  serried  infantry,  with  armor, 
and  plumes,  and  uqfloating  banners,  but  each  man  cold, 
breathless,  lifeless.  The  eye  had  a  stony  glare.  Hand, 
brow,  lip,  were  frozen  to  marble.  All  still — silent — 
death-struck!  Alas!  picture  sadly  truthful  of  Christ's 
slumbering  Church  to-day. 

But  exult  not  against  us,  oh,  o\\v  enemy !  Hark ! 
Along  the  stony  street  comes  a  swiftly  gliding  footstep. 
A  youthful  stranger  has  crossed  the  barrier,  and  stands 
amid  the  dead.  See;  he  lifts  a  golden  trumpet  —  he 
peals  one  long,  loud  blast  on  the  icy  air.  And  now  the 
sorcerer's  spell  is  loosened.  Life  beats  and  bounds  again. 
The  champion  springs  to  his  seat ;  the  war-horse  neighs 
for  the  battle  ;  the  plumes  wave ;  the  banners  stream  in 
air ;  the  dead  men  are  alive  again,  and  rush  forth  to  vic- 
tory. And  such,  in  our  generation,  is  the  young  man's 
mission.  Put  God's  glorious  trumpet  to  your  lip  and 
blow  one  loud  blast  that  shall  waken  all  these  dead 
forms  into  mighty  life,  and  lead  forth  the  army  of  God 
to  the  victory  of  the  world  ! 


THE  MOTHER'S  SORROW. 


"A  foolish  Son  is  the  heaviness  of  his  Mother." — Pro.v.  x.  1. 

I  should  hardly  have  chosen  this  simple  text — sug- 
gestive only  of  homely  thought — but  for  the  fact,  that, 
simultaneous  almost  with  your  request  to  address  the 
Young  Men's  Christian  Association,  came  another  request, 
from  an  unknown  mother  in  an  Eastern  State,  that  her 
son,  now  residing  in  this  city,  might  become  a  special 
object  of  my  watch  and  prayer.  In  her  letter,  which  is 
but  a  sample  of  many  which  the  ministers  of  this  city 
are  continually  receiving  from  distant  parents,  she  says : 

"  My  dear  child  is  away  from  home,  among  strangers,  exposed  to 
the  peculiar  temptations  of  a  large  city  and  your  new  social  life;  and 
though  I  have  great  confidence  in  his  moral  principles,  yet  I  know 
the  strength  of  the  evil  influences  that  surround  him,  and  should  he 
fall  a  prey  to  the  spoiler,  the  heart  of  a  widowed  mother  would  be  utterly 
broken." 

Coming  as  these  two  requests  did  together,  I  could 
not  separate  them  in  thought.  They  at  once  suggest- 
ed both  theme  and  text.  And  while  they  may  not  be 
promising  of  profound  and  eloquent  thought,  yet  are 
they  surely  appropriate  to  the  occasion,  and  will  not,  we 
trust,  be  found  altogether  unprofitable.  Perhaps  I  am 
addressing  that  very  son  to-night.     I  am  surely  address- 


330  TEE    MOTEER'S    SORROW. 

ing  sons  in  exactly  his  circumstances.     I  am  speaking 

especially  to  young  men.  Every  one  of  yon  has  a  moth- 
er somewhere — it  may  be  in  a  distant  home — it  may  be 
in  the  grave.  You  are  all  sons!  Yon  have  all  mothers  ! 
And  I  know — for  in  all  these  faces  there  looks  up  to  me 
no  soul  that  has  been  brutalized  into  shame  or  scorn  of  a 
mother's  gentle  love — I  know  that  my  simple  text  will 
come  to  your  hearts  tenderly  as  1  speak  of  "that foolish 
son  that  is  a  heaviness  to  his  mother" 

The  word  "heaviness"  means,  in  this  connection, 
sadness — sorrow — dejection  of  mind— a  wounded  spirit — 
a  broken  heart.  The  word  "  foolishness"  is  used  here  in 
a  sense  peculiar  to  Solomon,  denoting,  not  merely  an  in- 
tellectual weakness,  nor  merely  a  religious  want,  but  in 
general,  any  grand  moral  deficiency  in  the  whole  com- 
plex economy  of  character.  The  field  opened  before  us 
is  therefore  exceedingly  broad,  over  which  our  present 
limits  allow  us  only  cursorily  to  glance,  as  Ave  consider  a 
few  of  those  more  common  classes  of  young  men  who,  in 
Solomon's  words,  are  a  heaviness  to  maternal  love. 

Now,  as  particularly  indicated  by  the  word  "  foolish- 
ness" in  its  more  popular  sense  of  mental  deficiency, 
consider, 

First — Tlie  young  man  neglectful  of  his  intellectual 
culture. 

I  need  not  pause  to  show  that  in  a  day  like  this,  every 
man  should  be  educated,  and  that  his  progress  in  educa- 
tion should  end  only  with  his  being,  so  that  if  the  being 
be  immortal,  the  progress  should  be  immortal.  And  it  is 
indeed  immortal.  A  finite  being  never  becomes — never 
can  become  complete.  Paul,  risen  and  glorified  spirit  as 
he  is,  intellectually  even  yet  "  counts  himself  not  to  have 


THE    MOTHER'S    SORROW.  331 

apprehended."  Still,  before  his  lifted  eye  and  advancing 
foot,  rise  the  receding  mountain  ranges  of  "things  to 
come" — still  "to  come!"  In  all  the  infinite  range  of 
being,  after  you  leave  the  irrational,  until  you  reach  the 
divine,  there  is  none  whose  "  education  is  finished." 

Surely,  then,  yours  is  not  finished.  And  every  young 
man  ought  to  be  giving  diligent  heed  to  his  intellectual 
development  and  discipline.  Of  course,  I  do  not  mean 
that  all  young  men  should  aim  to  become  profoundly 
learned.  The  word  "foolishness"  in  the  text  is  the 
antithesis  not  of  "  learning"  but  of  "  wisdom" — two  very 
different  things.  And,  although  learning  is  greatly  to 
be  desired,  yet  in  its  profoundness  it  is  not  possible  to  all 
young  men,  nor  necessary  to  our  present  idea.  We  are 
speaking  of  "  education'''' — and  the  word  defines  itself.  It 
means  "  E-ducation"  (  i.  e.  )  eduction — a  drawing  forth 
— a  development — not  a  mind  infused  with  erudition,  but 
a  mind  led  forth  to  think — educed  into  practical  and 
profitable  activity. 

And  here  lies  the  grand  popular  difficulty.  As  think- 
ing is  hard  work,  and  most  men  are  lazy,  few  willingly 
think.  They  prefer  to  buy  thought  as  they  buy  groceries, 
second-hand  and  diluted,  and  so  deal  only  with  the 
hucksters.  I  am  not  here  to  speak  in  disparagement 
either  of  the  popular  press,  or  the  platform.  They  fur- 
nish what  is  called  for.  They  meet  the  demands  of  the 
market.  If  profound  thought  were  popular,  it  could  be 
furnished  for  a  consideration.  But  as  diluted  thought 
pays  best,  they  utter  it  diluted.  So  the  popular  press 
roars  and  foams — a  irrand  Niagara  of  sentiment  and 
water.  And  the  platform  swarms  with  lecturers  who 
throw  rainbows  by  the  hour  over  old  nonsense  vaporized 


332  THE    MOTHER'S    SORROW. 

into  the  seeming  of  now  truth.  And  all  this  answers  the 
purpose  of  the  uttcrer.  It  supplies  the  popular  demand. 
It  puts  money  into  the  purse.     But  as  for  all  purposes 

of  education — developing  and  strengthening  the  intellect 
— training  the  mind  to  think  for  itself — to  perform 
successfully  life's  great  ministries — to  understand  man's 
nature  as  it  is,  and  God's  world  as  it  is,  and  to  achieve 
upon  that  world  and  in  behalf  of  that  nature,  the  great 
ends  of  its  creation — for  all  such  purposes,  the  whole 
thing  is  a  failure.  It  is  like  a  physical  regimen  of  sweet- 
meats and  sleep — the  edification  of  wild  asses  that  snuff 
the  east  wind  ! 

Now,  I  hardly  need  say  that  a  young  man,  who  amid 
the  active  business  of  life,  sinks  into  this  popular  mental 
indolence  and  imbecility,  fulfills  the  condition  of  the 
text.  A  true  mother's  first^  and  favorite  thought  is  her 
child's  education.  It  may  be  a  very  foolish  style  of 
thought.  It  not  unfrequently  is.  Indeed,  in  its  effort 
to  secure  a  child's  premature  culture,  parental  solicitude 
1  ecomes  sometimes  cruel  and  monstrous.  We  see  small 
children  whose  great  want  is  muscular  development,  set 
to  master  intellectual  school-tasks  of  science  or  language, 
the  sure  results  of  which  will  be  permanent  physical 
infirmity,  and  a  precocious  development  of  the  intellect 
and  its  prematured  decay.  We  find  faithful  and  compe- 
tent teachers  blamed  or  changed  because  they  can  not 
supply  the  child's  natural  deficiencies — creating  brains 
where  there  are  none,  or,  where  there  are,  insureing  their 
unnatural  growth.  We  find  children  blamed  and  pun- 
ished because  they  will  be,  what  indeed  they  ought  to 
be,  what  God  intended  they  should  bo,  not  linguists,  and 
mathematicians,     and    philosophers,     and    oratcrs,    but 


THE    MOTHER'S    SORROW.  333 

simply  little  children,  unstudious,  and  noisy,  and  riotous, 
fond  of  holidays  and  play. 

Confessedly,  this  parental  anxiety  for  a  child's  educa- 
tion errs  oftentimes  sadly,  and  yet  these  mistakes  only 
manifest  the  strength  of  the  anxiety.  Sure  vre  are  that 
from  the  earliest  dawn  of  the  child's  reason,  the  true 
mother's  chief  care  is  to  fit  him  intellectually  for  the 
great  tasks  of  life.  She  well  knows  that  all  his  earthly 
successes,  his  respectability  and  usefulness  among  men ; 
yea,  the  very  permanency  and  strength  of  his  moral 
principles  of  character,  all  depend  on  the  styde  of  his 
intellectual  culture.  And  when,  instead  of  strengthening 
its  immortal  wings  to  ascend  the  great  firmaments  of 
thought,  her  boy  gives  his  nature  the  regimen  of  a  para- 
sitic vine,  seeking  trellises  for  its  tendrils,  sinking  from 
the  true  rank  of  a  thoughtful  man  into  that  lower  life 
whose  law  is  amusement,  pursuing  no  thorough  and 
comprehensive  course  of  reading,  ignoring  all  the  philo- 
sophic and  scientific  discoveries  of  the  age,  becoming  at 
most  a  critic  of  light  literature  and  lectures,  a  great 
scholar  of  newspapers  and  small  novels,  then  surely,  in 
his  sphere  of  intellectual  inefficiency  and  insignificance, 
does  he  become  "  a  foolish  son,  the  heaviness  of  his 
mother.'''' 

But  now  passing  all  this,  for  the  text's  more  important 
references  to  styles  and  distinctions  of  moral  character, 
consider 

Secondly — The  indolent  young  man.  Of  this  class 
there  are  two  distinct  species: — The  man  who  has  no 
regular  business  •  and  the  man  who  has  no  energy  in  it. 

1st.  In  all  communities  there  are  found  young  men 
who  have  no  regular  business.     If  moving  at  the  top  of 


334  THE    MOTHER'S    SORROW. 

society,  inherited  wealth,  or  parental  indulgence  place 
the  youth   above  all  necessity  of  personal  toil  or  thrift, 

and  so  he  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  rise  late,  and  dress  care- 
fully, and  ride  out,  and  dine,  and  visit,  and  amuse  himself 
generally,  and  go  to  sleep  again.  Or,  if  moving  at  the  bot- 
tom of  society,  lie  has  neither  energy  nor  ambition  t<>  rise. 
Regarding  himself  predestinated  to  continue  haggard, 
and  squalid,  and  misanthropic,  he  yields  to  his  destiny, 
as  a  shell-fish  settles  in  the  sand,  and  contents  himself 
with  the  house  and  heritage  of  poverty.  lie  walks 
abroad  at  noonday  to  inspect  the  streets ;  loiters  of  pleas- 
ant evenings  on  public  corners  to  take  care  of  the  weath- 
er; and  eats,  if  he  have  any  to  eat ;  and  drinks  at  any 
rate  ;  and  goes  to  sleep  again.  These  are  specimens  of 
young  men  found  everywhere,  from  foundation  to  top- 
stone,  in  the  great  social  edifice — growths  indigenous 
and  without  culture  in  all  savage  life  :  but  in  our  bargain- 
and-barter  civilization,  the  result  of  that  poetic  progress 
whereby  a  man  escapes  all  human  cares,  and  attains  to 
the  serene  dignity  of  a  vegetable  ! 

2d.  In  all  communities  there  are  other  young  men 
who,  having  some  ostensible  business,  do  not  regularly 
and  resolutely  attend  to  it.  The  world  is  full  of  men 
who  embark  on  the  troubled  wTaters  of  industrial  life 
only  to  founder  in  the  great  deep,  or  to  drive  ashore 
shipwrecked.     Various  causes  produce  this  : — 

(a)  In  some  cases  it  results  from  sheer  indolence.  The 
man  has  no  bone  or  sinew  in  him — no  instinct  of  effort — 
no  adaptation  for  work.  Probably  some  anxious  and 
thrifty  friend  chose  his  business  for  him.  But  as  it  was 
a  business  which  would  not  do  itself,  but  required  some- 
body to  do  it,  the  work  is  not  done.     The   man  might 


THE    M  0  TITER'  S    SORROW.  335 

have  succeeded,  and  perhaps  somewhat  distinguished 
himself,  as  a  zoophite  fastened  to  a  rock  and  twirling 
tentacala.  Bui  among  men  of  strong  hands  and  brave 
hearts,  he  is  simply  a  mistake — a  maladjustment — his 
success  is  impossible. 

{!>)  In  other  cases  this  results  from  a  wrong  choice  of 
business.  The  man  got  into  a  sphere  for  which  he  had 
no  adaptation  either  mental  or  physical.  We  see  these 
things  daily — giants  twisting  threads,  and  dwarfs  carry- 
ing burdens ;  Shakespeares  making  shoes,  and  Tuppers 
making  poetry ;  statesmen  keeping  flocks,  and  herdsmen 
gone  to  Congress.  Men  are  everywhere  out  of  place, 
maladjusted,  and  of  course  they  fail.  And  by  this  first 
failure  some  men  are  hopelessly  discouraged.  Not  per- 
ceiving that  failure  in  a  wrong  path  is  a  real  part  of  suc- 
cess, by  turning  the  feet  into  other  and  right  paths,  they 
have  no  energy  to  put  their  bark  about  on  the  stormy 
waters  of  life — and  so  continue  in  the  mistaken  business, 
sailing  on  the  shoreward  course,  until  becalmed  in  some 
quiet  bay  ;  thinking  of  no  future  progress,  they  roll  lazily 
with  the  tide,  waiting  resignedly  for  decay  to  tear  in 
pieces  their  sails  and  take  apart  their  timbers. 

(c)  In  other  cases  this  results  from  false  theories  of 
success.  The  man  is  a  believer  in  good  luck  and  grand 
chances.  He  trusts  to  fortune,  and  waits  for  opportuni- 
ties. The  sky  is  cloudy  and  the  husbandman  will  not 
plow.  The  wind  is  contrary  and  the  mariner  will  not 
weigh  anchor.  The  man  is  waiting  for  miracles  and  will 
not  use  means — always  getting  ready  to  do  great  things 
and  meanwhile  doing  nothing. 

(d)  In  other  cases,  still,  the  failure  results  from  divided 
application  and  energy.     The  man  attempts  too   much. 


336  THE    .MOTHER'S     SORROW. 

Ignoring  the  principle  of  a  division  of  labor,  as  the  grand 
law  of  civilization,  he  affects  the  practical  barbarism  of 
attempting  to  do  every  thing.  Now,  one  business  is  as 
much  as  any  man  can  do  well  at  a  time.  This  is  the 
patent  law  of  the  \miverse.  Every  efficient  thing  God 
ever  made,  does  its  own  work  always  and  its  own  work 
only.  The  bee  attempts  not  to  sing,  nor  the  bird  to 
make  honey  ;  the  vine  does  not  essay  to  bear  apples,  nor 
the  fig-tree  to  bear  grapes.  The  sun  is  contented  to  take 
care  of  the  day,  and  the  moon  is  earnestly  busy  taking 
care  of  the  night.  Such  is  God's  ordinance — and  the 
successful  man  conforms  to  it.  Life  is  too  short  for  the 
accomplishment  of  great  tasks  with  divided  energies. 
One  prize  must  allure — one  business  engross  him.  And 
the  blazon  on  the  banner  he  hears  to  the  battle  of  life  is 
Paul's  glorious  motto — "  this  one  thing  I  do  /" 

But,  be  the  reason  of  the  failure  what  it  may,  the  world 
is  full  of  men  who,  with  a  business  to  do,  never  succeed 
in  it.  Life  swarms  with  indolent  and  inefficient  men  — 
poor,  passionless,  stolid,  statuesque  dreamers  of  dreams 
in  a  waking  world— maladjustments  in  the  moving 
mechanism  of  the  universe — living  discords  in  the  in- 
dustrial harmonies  of  creation  going  on  around  them  ! 
And,  surely,  all  such  sons  are  a  heaviness  to  mothers. 
Women's  nature  is  proverbially  aspiring.  Ambition  for 
her  child  is  an  element  of  her  affection.  When  she  bore 
him  on  her  bosom  and  rocked  him  to  gentle  dreams, 
it  was  that  he  rnitrht  become  strong  for  life's  work  : 
that  he  might  be  something  and  do  sunn  thin;/. 

And  if  I  speak  to  a  young  man  indolently  disappoint- 
ing parental  hopes,  then  I  speak  to  a  son  unworthy  of 
his  mother.     Rouse  yourself  even  now.     Go  forth  to  the 


THE    MOTHER'S    SORROW.  337 

battle  of  life  with  a  strong  hand  and  a  brave  heart; 
laughing  to  scorn  all  obstacles;  scattering-  all  enemies; 
understanding  that  energy  creates  its  own  success;  that 
circumstances  do  not  make  men,  but  that  men  make  cir- 
cumstances ;  that  obstacles  are  only  steps  in  the  ladder 
which  energy  climbs  ;  that  opposition  is  only  a  wind  on 
the  bow  whereby  a  drifting  bark  weathers  a  headland, 
and  works  itself  into  harbor.  Those  that  love  you  are 
looking  for  your  success  in  life.  They  have  equipped  the 
bark  and  sent  it  forth  to  the  seas  ;  and  if,  through  any  in- 
dolence or  false  seamanship  of  your  own,  you  make  ship- 
wreck of  your  manhood — then,  alas!  you  are  "  a  foolish 
so?2,  a  heaviness  to  your  mother." 

But  passing  now  this  large  class  of  indolent  young 
men,  consider — 

Thirdly — The  young  man  who  selects  a  wrong  busi- 
ness, or  pursues  it  xoith  a  wrong  spirit. 

The  grand  aim  of  men  to-day  is  to  get  rich  speedily ; 
and  their  practical  theory  is,  that  all  business  is  honorable 
in  proportion  to  its  revenues.  But  never  was  a  theory 
more  false.  All*  honest  business  is  equally  honorable. 
The  man  who,  Avith  shovel  and  pick,  toils  on  a  railroad, 
is  nature's  nobleman,  in  contrast  with  the  swindling  offi- 
cial of  the  concern  who  thrives  upon  villainies.  The 
drayman,  who  hauls  boxes  from  the  cellar,  is  a  prince 
royal  in  the  presence  of  the  master  merchant  who  sits 
above  in  the  counting-room,  projecting  dishonest  gains 
or  proud  of  fraudulent  successes.  The  plowman — the 
mechanic — the  merchant — the  professional  man — are  all 
fellow-workers,  and  if  alike  honest,  are  all  alike  honora- 
ble. But  the  false  theory  is  the  popular  one.  And  so 
the  aim  of  young  men  of  energy  is,  an  occupation  prom- 

15 


338  TffE    MOTHER'S    SORROW. 

ising  the  earliest  and  largest  success  ;  and  this  is  well  if 
it  involve  no  compromise  of  mural  principles.  But  if  it 
do,  let  the  work  be  what  it  may,  the  young  man  should 
shrink  from  it  as  from  contamination.  He  should  engage 
in  no  work  requiring  the  slightest  violation  of  a  dictate 
of  conscience.  He  should  consider  that  the  benefit  of  an 
acquired  fortune  is  not  objective,  but  subjective — i.  e., 
consisting  not  in  the  value  of  the  possession,  but  in  the 
moral  character  acquired  in  its  pursuit — just  as  in  a 
gymnasium  the  good  to  the  athlete  is  not  the  weight 
lifted,  but  the  muscular  strength  acquired.  Evil  work 
may  have  large  revenues.  A  theatrical  actor — a  charla- 
tan showman — a  fraudulent  speculator — may  roll  in 
wealth,  while  honest  labor  is  in  want.  But  such  success 
is  simply  infamous ;  such  a  man  is  a  disgrace  to  his  gen- 
eration— "  he  is  a  foolish  son,  a  heaviness  to  his  mother.'''' 

Woman's  nature  is  alive  with  lofty  and  chivalrous 
sentiments.  A  son's  spotless  honor  is  his  mother's  glory. 
And  if  from  that  high  path  wherein  she  trained  his  early 
feet  to  walk,  he  descend  to  an  infamous  calling,  or  even 
in  a  reputable  business  to  seek  success  by  dishonorable 
artifice,  then  does  he  purchase  success  at  the  price  of  her 
tears  who  bore  him.  And  every  item  added  to  his 
wealth  gathers  but  another  monstrous  weight  to  the 
already  crushing  heavings  of  his  mother's  wounded 
spirit. 

O  young  men  !  just  unmooring  from  a  home  of  peace- 
ful love  to  the  treacherous  seas  of  a  stormy  life,  take  that 
mother's  holy  memory  with  you — a  star  to  guide  into  all 
noble  courses — remembering  that  a  son's  spotless  name 
shall  be,  while  life  lasts,  a  father's  truest  glory  and  a 
mother's  greatest  joy ! 


THE    M  OTHER'  S    SORROW.  339 

But  passing  now  from  this  whole  matter  of  business, 
consider — 

Fourthly — The  young  man  icho  makes  choice  of  un- 
principled, immoral,  irreligious  companions. 

This  is  perhaps  the  first  anxiety  of  parental  love,  as  a 
child  passes  the  charmed  circle  of  household  affection. 
For  such  a  child  seems  like  an  inexperienced  insect 
moving  amid  the  gossamer  meshes  of  a  watchful  de- 
stroyer. His  friendships  are  to  be  such  as  chance  or 
business  associations  may  fling  in  his  way.  And  it  is  a 
favorite  artifice  of  the  great  spirit  of  evil,  to  seduce 
through  these  fine  social  instincts  the  young  heart  to  de- 
struction. Beware  then,  O  young  men  !  as  for  your 
life,  of  the  friendships  you  form  !  Choose  your  compan- 
ions as  you  would  if  they  were  to  go  in  daily  to  your 
mother's  fireside  !  Beware,  as  for  your  soul's  welfare,  of 
all  companionships  like  these  : 

JBeware  of  the  young  man  of  fashion/  I  need  not 
describe  him.  He  is  of  a  large  class,  found  everywhere, 
whose  life  is  summed  in  rising,  dressing,  dining,  visiting, 
and  sleeping.  He  differs  from  the  indolent  man  in  that 
he  is  always  busy  about  trifles.  A  pitiful  butterfly  spe- 
cies— flitting  from  flower  to  flower,  and  dying  like  au- 
tumnal insects,  despised  and  forgotten.  And  we  say 
avoid  such  men.  You  are  here  to  fit  yourselves  for  the 
great  duties  of  an  earnest  life.  Possibly  your  honest 
earnings  are  too  small  to  enable  you  to  array  yourself  in 
the  purple  and  fine  linen  of  his  fashionable  attire.  Cer- 
tain I  am  your  head  has  too  much  brain  to  be  a  hatter's 
show-block,  and  your  heart  too  much  brave  blood  to 
serve  as  a  tailor'  s  lay-figure.  You  are  here  to  become 
men,  not  manikins.     And  if  one  of  these  poor  ephemera 


340  THE    MOTHER'S    SORROW. 

of  fashion,  who  eat  their  father's  bread  and  use  their  sis- 
ter's perfumes,  should  cast  on  you  a  glance  of  patronizing 
friendship,  just  tell  him  you  were  created  an  immortal 
being,  and  not  a  zoophite — that  you  live  by  work,  and 
do  not  vegetate  by  suction.  But  take  not  to  your  bosom 
such  a  friendship  as  a  heaviness  to  a  mother/ 

Beware  of  the  sceptical  young  man  !  There  are  two 
classes  of  freethinkers  in  the  midst  of  us.  There  are 
those  who  think  freely  and  speak  freely  of  human  nature. 
Their  creed  on  this  point  is  Calvin's  total  depravity  ma- 
lignantly intensified.  They  maintain  that  all  outward  mo- 
rality is  the  specious  disguise  of  some  covert  wickedness. 
"  Honesty  "  —  "  purity  "  —  "  benevolence  "  —  these,  they 
tell  us,  are  all  shams — the  stalking-horses  of  villainy 
lying  in  wait  for  victim:;.  And  their  aim  is  to  under- 
mine all  generous  faith  in  man — to  plant  the  fatal  Upas 
of  suspicion  in  the  fresh  gardens  of  the  soul.  These  men 
are  the  croaking  ravens  — the  screaming  vultures  of 
humanity — whose  taste  is  for  dead  flesh,  and  not  for 
nature's  purple  fruitage,  and  are  to  be  avoided  as  the 
very  apostles  of  pollution. 

But  worse  even  than  these  are  the  men  that  think 
freely  and  speak  freely  of  religion.  With  them,  a  Chris- 
tian profession  is  regarded  as  simple  hypocrisy.  To  them 
the  Bible  is  a  falsehood — the  Church  an  association  of 
evilly-designing  men — the  priesthood  a  privileged  and  un- 
principled caste,  and  retribution  but  a  dream  of  mediaeval 
credulity.  In  the  main,  they  are  men  of  impure  lives.  The 
Bible  condemns  their  evil  practices,  and  they  set  them- 
selves to  discredit  it.  So  they  call  to  their  aid  Hume,  and 
Paine,  and  Volney,  and  Voltaire,  and  Wright,  and  Owen — 
and  the  whole  motley  crew.     From  one  they  gather  a 


THE    MOTHER'S    SORROW.  341 

low  jost ;  from  another,  a  malignant  cavil;  from  another, 
a  specious  sophism;  and, thus  crammed  with  blasphemy, 

go  fortli  to  set  their  feel  upon  all  that  is  pure,  and  their 
face  against  the  heavens;  and  having  got  rid  of  all  fear 
of  God,  and  all  principles  of  virtue,  and  all  respect  of 
honest  men,  and  all  decencies  of  personal  character,  they 
exult  in  the  triumph  of  reason  over  superstition  and 
priestcraft,  and  call  themselves  "Freethinkers!" 

And,  verily,  they  are  "free!" — as  a  reptile  is  free  to 
wallow  in  pollution!  Free  as  unseemly  satyrs,  to  dance 
and  howl  amid  grand  immortal  ruins  !  Free  to  follow 
the  trail  of  a  serpent  in  the  mire  rather  than  a  seraph's 
shining  path  through  the  firmament  !  Free  to  slaver 
with  their  venom  the  radiant  purities  of  this  hook  of 
God,  and  to  adore  as  a  new  evangel  the  hlasphemous 
and  idiotic  ravings  of  these  abandoned  and  outcast  lepers 
of  humanity  !  Free  to  brutalize  all  their  noble  moral  in- 
stincts— to  dwarf  all  their  gifts  of  intellect  and  genius — 
to  demonstrate  their  brotherhood  with  cattle  and  creep- 
ing things — to  exult  in  their  brute-hood,  and  do  after 
their  kind  ! 

Now,  such  men  as  these  are  around  you — lying  in  wait 
for  you — and  our  warning  is,  beware  <>f  them.  Believe 
us,  there  is  not  an  infidel  objection  these  men  urge 
against  the  Bible,  which  has  not  been  so  triumphantly 
answered  a  thousand  times,  that  just  to  urge  it  again  as 
an  argument,  is  to  parade  a  man's  ignorance — is  to  show 
himself  a  weak,  credulous  Philistine,  setting  up  again  the 
poor  shattered  Dagon  before  the  Ark  of  our  God  !  If  an 
honest  doubt  arise  in  your  heart  as  to  any  great  truth  of 
religion,  go,  for  its  solution,  to  some  one  who  has  at  least 
read  the  Bible  carefully.     But  these  "free-thinkers  !" — 


342  THE    MOTHER'S    SORROW. 

these  men  and  women  delighting  to  sneer  at  holy  things! 
— oh,  avoid  them  as  creatures  that  would  fain  poison 
within  you  all  the  springs  of  peace,  and  purity,  and 
immortality  ! 

Your  parents,  alas  ! — that  father,  with  his  pleading 
prayer! — that  mother,  with  her  yearning  heart! — rather 
would  they  see  you  coffined  and  sepulchred;  that  proud 
hrow  cold;  that  bright  eye  sightless — -rather  thus,  a 
thousand  times,  than  to  see  you  fall  a  prey  to  the  ma- 
lignant spoiler,  whose  delight  is  in  the  ruins  of  a  soul — 
a  soul ! 

Beware,  above  all,  of  the  young  man  of  practical  im- 
morality. I  can  not  enlarge  here.  The  name  of  this 
class  is  legion ;  and  on  all  sides  do  they  surround  you. 
They  are  of  every  type  and  form  of  iniquity ;  but  avoid 
them  all  as  lepers  in  the  market-place  ! 

That  man,  is  a  sharper  in  his  business!  He  over- 
reaches the  ignorant,  and  drives  hard  bargains  with  men 
in  trouble;  his  conscience  is  concerned  with  lawdionesty ; 
his  integrity  is  intrenched  amid  statutes  of  limitation ; 
his  type  is  a  spider  entrapping  thoughtless  insects ! 
Avoid  him  !     Avoid  him  ! 

That  man  is  untruthful/  You  can  not  trust  to  his 
statements,  nor  rely  on  his  promises.  He  is  wanting  in 
the  grand  substratum  of  all  noble  moral  character.  Avoid 
him  ! 

That  man  is  a  Sabbath-breaker,  a  profane  swearer.  lie 
refrains  his  feet  from  the  sanctuary  ;  and  lingers  long 
over  the  wine!     Avoid  him  ! 

That  man  is  a  quarreler  !  He  wears  much  hair,  and 
carries  a  weapon,  and  looks  fierce,  and  talks  of  his  honor  ! 
Avoid  him  ! 


THE    MOTHER'S    SORROW.  343 

That  mail's  associations  are  with  "fast  men  /"  He 
gets  behind  the  scenes  at  a  theatre;  and  holds  a  watch 
at  a  race-course;  and  is  critical  of  curds  and  wine  in  a 
club-room!     Avoid  him! 

That  man  has  no  reputation  for  purity  !  He  curls  his 
lip  and  looks  wise  when  men  speak  of  goodness  and  vir- 
tue. Perhaps  he  boasts  of  vile  deeds  and  vile  associates; 
and  makes  a  mock  of  domestic  love,  and  woman's  truth, 
and  all  life's  gentler  and  holier  affections  !  Avoid  him ! 
oh,  avoid  him  as  you  would  a  malignant  fiend ! 

Avoid,  in  short,  every  man  whom  you  would  not  see 
seated  in  your  own  home-shadow — sharing  the  unsus- 
pecting confidence  of  a  father's,  a  mother's,  a  sister's 
gentle  love  !  Alas  !  alas  !  for  the  direful  contagion  of 
these  evil  companionships  !  Deep  seated  amid  the  puri- 
ties of  your  own  better  nature,  are  the  germs  of  latent 
evil,  which  the  rank  breath  of  these  corrupters  of  youth 
"will  nurture  into  broods  of  gigantic  scorpions  !  Have, 
therefore,  nothing  to  do  with  them.  And  if  one  of  these 
men  of  questionable  reputation  seeks  your  friendship,  tell 
him — you  were  made  for  better  things  than  to  feed  the 
screaming  vultures  of  passion ;  that  you  have  not,  as  yet, 
got  entirely  rid  of  such  old-fashioned  things  as  a  heart, 
and  a  conscience,  and  regard  for  a  father's  honor  and  a 
mother's  love.  That  if  he  choose  to  go  down  to  the  asp's 
hole,  and  the  cockatrice's  den,  and  the  serpent's  dust — 
there  need  be  no  disputing  about  taste — but  for  your- 
self, you  find  in  your  bosom  a  winged  and  immortal 
spirit,  and  bending  above  you  a  firmament  of  glory ;  and, 
on  the  whole,  prefer  to  fling  abroad  your  pinion,  and  soar 
to  the  sun ! 

I  repeat  it:    Avoid  eoil  companions  I    I  warn  you 


3U  THE    MO  TUBE'S    SO  BROW. 

with  nil  the  power  of  my  solemn  text !  I  plead  with 
you  by  all  the  tenderness  of  a  mother's  deathless  love ! 
If  you  would  not  fill  her  gentle  eyes  with  tears,  and  her 
dreams  with  fearful  phantoms,  oh,  take  not  to  your  life 
such  fellowships,  to  be  as  lead,  as  rock,  as  a  mountain,  in 
their  crushing  "heaviness  to  that  mother's  heart." 

But  passing  now  the    case   of  the    young  man  who 
chooses  evil  companions,  consider — 

Fifthly — The  young  man  who  has  become  evil  him- 
self. 

And  surely  such  a  son  is  a  mother's  heaviness. 

It  seems,  indeed,  almost  impossible  that,  coming  from 
a  happy  Christian  home,  any  young  man  should  ever  go 
so  widely  astray.  But,  alas !  the  strange  thing  happens. 
We  see  it  every  day.  The  youth  crosses  the  threshold 
of  affection,  recoiling  from  all  paths  of  open  sin  and 
shame,  as  a  white-winged  bird  fr  m  a  ravening  vulture's 
nest.  But,  alas  !  to  that  young  h  art  the  guileful  tempter 
comes — he  points — he  whispers — he  smiles — he  smooths 
the  path  down  gently  for  the  feet.  His  first  words  are 
all  gentle  and  of  good  fellowship  ;  he  would  improve  the 
youth's  manners;  beguile  his  lonely  hours ;  increase  his 
knowledge  of  the  world.  Presently  he  takes  a  bolder 
tone ;  insensibly  he  paints  vice  in  radiant  colors.  The 
youth  at  first  recoils.  It  is  hard  work  to  force  that  im- 
mortal bai'k  into  the  outer  circle  of  the  moral  maelstrom ! 
Conscience  moves  !  Memory  whispers  !  In  visions  of 
the  night  the  father's  gray  locks  seem  to  move  !  the 
mother's  eye  to  watch  and  weep  !  But  the  tempter  is 
not  foiled.  He  comes  again  and  again.  The  youth 
yields  little  by  little  to  his  honeyed  words  !  I  need  not 
picture  him  further.     He  has  cut  from  his  moral  moor- 


THE    HO  THER'S    SORROW.  345 

ings,  and  the  bark,  on  a  wild,  deep  river,  is  carried 
mightily  downward ! 

And  what  is  that  young  man  now?  Ah  me!  a  fearful 
"heaviness"  to  that  father's  life — to  that  mother's  heart! 
Into  that  distant  home  have  been  borne  rumors  of  that 
child's  evil  courses — of  vile  companions — of  desecrated 
Sabbaths — of  unseemly  revels.  And  see  that  father  and 
that  mother  now  !  Ah  !  those  tear-stained  cheeks  !  those 
sobbing,  wrestling  prayers  !  Had  the  news  come  that 
that  dear  child  was  only  sick — only  dying,  this  might 
be  borne ;  for  close,  close  to  that  dying  pillow  would 
parental  love  have  pressed,  and  the  bitterness  of  the 
hour  been  sweetened  by  the  fond  hope  of  meeting  in 
gladness  beyond  the  grave !  But,  alas  !  a  son  upon  whose 
soul  the  pestilence  has  fallen  !  this  is  a  burden  that 
presses,  oh,  how  heavily  ! 

I  can  not  enlarge  here.  I  speak  not  to  describe  the 
downward  road,  but  only  to  warn  you  against  entering 
it !  We  have  small  hope  of  reclaiming  the  abandoned. 
We  speak  chiefly  with  a  hope  to  preserve  the  unfallen. 
Nevertheless,  if  it  should  happen,  as  indeed  it  may,  that 
I  speak  this  night  to  one  young  man  who  has  yielded 
to  temptation  and  is  rushing  to  ruin,  then  I  fling  my- 
self in  that  young  man's  path  with  my  text's  strong 
motive,  and  I  say  to  him  now :  "  Remember  tour 
mother  !"  Ah  !  I  care  not  for  that  smile  !  I  know  that 
conscience  works  and  stings  beneath  it !  You  are  not 
yet  a  fiend;  and  the  last  angel  that  deserts  your  soul 
will  be  your  mother's  memory !  So  I  look  into  that 
scornful  face  and  cry,  "  Remember  your  mother  !" 
Do  you  say,  "  she  is  dead?''''  Thank  God  in  her  behalf, 
then  !     She  is  saved  from  the  living  agony  of  beholding 

15* 


346  THE    MOTHER'S    SORROW. 

a  son's  ruin  !  But  for  you  my  motive  is  as  strong ! 
Dead!  is  she?  And  does  this  wild  autumnal  wind 
make  melancholy  music  over  her  distant  grave  ?  "Well, 
then,  I  tell  you  that  every  step  you  take  in  your  present 
sinful  courses,  tramples  the  dust  of  her  broken  heart 
deeper  in  the  shadows  of  that  sepulchre  !  Or  if  she  live, 
then  I  tell  you  that  that  faithful,  gentle  heart  lives  with 
you,  dies  with  you.  See  !  see  !  right  in  your  downward 
path  it  rises  !  A  phantom  with  a  pale  forehead  and 
weeping  eyes  !  Oh,  pause,  young  man  !  Your  feet ! 
your  feet !  Behold,  they  are  trampling  on  a  mother's 
broken  heart ! 

But  I  turn  from  this  picture.  I  speak  now  to  the  un- 
fallen,  whose  life  is  beautiful  with  purity  and  filial  love, 
and  I  seek  only  to  warn  you  against  the  first  beginnings 
of  evil.  Young  man,  you  have  yonder  in  your  room, 
your  mother 's  picture  !  Or  if  you  have  not,  go  get  one  ! 
And  carry  it  ever  with  you  !  Bind  it  to  your  bosom  ; 
and  when  tempted  to  any  evil,  consult  that  silent  monitor. 
Draw  forth  and  look  upon  that  speechless  face !  Oh, 
what  tremendous  power  to  keep  back  from  all  evil  there 
would  be  in  the  simple  vision  of  a  mother 's  face  ! 

Imagine  a  young  man  sitting  in  some  place  of  evil  con- 
course— -in  a  gambling  house — an  infidel  club-room — at 
the  sumptuous  board  of  an  inebriate  revel,  or  in  some 
place  of  darker,  deeper  infamy !  And,  now,  in  some 
scene  like  this,  let  divine  power  work  me  a  simple  mir- 
acle. Behold  a  shadow  rises  as  along  the  fabled  mirror 
of  Agrippa !  It  grows  denser!  It  takes  shape  and 
lineaments!  And  now  a  human  face  looks  out,  a  calm 
pale  brow,  and  eyes  of  earnest  love  !  A  Mother's  face  ! 
And  see   this   young  man   now  !     How  his  cheek  grows 


TEE    MOTHER'S    SORROW.  347 

pale!  How  his  knees  smite  tog-other!  How  he  springs 
from  his  repose,  and  rushes  from  that  haunt  of  iniquity 
as  if  pursued  by  an  avenging  spectre  from  eternity  ! 

Believe  me,  dear  hearer,  parental  love  becomes  agony 
when  a  child  turns  into  evil  courses !  To  save  you  from 
this  dire  moral  pestilence  a  parent  would  gladly  lay 
down  life.  When  the  plague  broke  out  in  Italy,  and  all 
who  wore  exposed  to  it  inevitably  died,  there  lived  a 
mother  with  three  small  children  in  an  infected  district. 
Presently  she  felt  in  her  own  person  symptoms  of  the 
disease.  In  the  morning  were  the  chills  and  heat  of 
fever;  at  noon  the  fatal  plague-spot  showed  itself.  She 
knew  that  she  must  die.  But  she  could  not  bear  the 
thought  of  communicating  death  to  her  darlings.  With 
her  first  suspicion  of  her  own  attack  she  had  sent  her 
children  away  from  her  to  an  upper  chamber,  and  when 
that  suspicion  was  confirmed  she  rose  in  her  great  agony, 
locked  her  little  ones  into  the  chamber,  denied  herself 
the  last  embrace,  the  last  look  of  those  dear  faces,  the 
last  accents  of  those  beloved  voices,  turned  in  speech- 
less agony  away,  dragged  herself  across  the  threshold, 
along  the  deserted  street  to  the  public  dead-house,  and 
then  lying  down  amid  the  uncoffined  corpses,  died  alone ! 
Such  is  a  mother's  anxious  care  to  save  a  child's  body  from 
the  pestilence !  But  then,  from  this  moral  contagion— 
this  plague  that  falls  upon  the  immortal  spirit — who  can 
tell  what  a  mother's  heart  would  not  endure  to  save 
the  child  of  her  bosom  ? 

I  can  not  enlarge.  I  speak  to  generous  and  ingenuous 
men  to-night.  And  I  say  to  them  that,  in  crossing  the 
threshold  of  these  sinful  courses,  they  ai-e  bringing  a 
mountain  weight  of  heaviness  on  hearts  that  love  them. 


348  THE    MOTHER'S    SORROW. 

Just  let  there  be  whispered  in  your  childhood's  home  a 
story  of  your  dissipation — your  dishonesty — your  intem- 
perance— your  impurity — and  then  better,  a  thousand 
times  better,  more  generous,  more  merciful,  the  hand 
that  should  drive  an  assassin's  dagger  into  that  mother's 
gentle  heart ! 

Now,  there  are  other  classes  of  character  we  had  de- 
signed to  exhibit  here,  but  our  limits  forbid,  and  we 
conclude  by  considering, 

Sixthly — The  young  man  who  lives  in  neglect  of 
person  al  reliy  ion. 

This  is  unquestionably  the  main  thought  of  the  text. 
In  its  last  analysis  Solomon  always  uses  "  wisdom  "  in 
the  sense  of  personal  piety,  and  "  foolishness  "  as  a  syno- 
nym of  practical  irreligion. 

And  it  does  not  matter  for  our  argument  whether  or 
not  you  so  regard  it.  You  may  be  of  the  class  of  young 
men  who  sneer  at  religion,  and  think  it  noble  and  wise 
to  call  themselves  infidels.  But  then  your  mother  does 
not.  And  to  her  heart  the  very  thought  of  your  infidel- 
ity is  a  painful  burden.  To  her,  religion  is  no  weak  and 
driveling  fanaticism,  but  a  life — a  power — a  heavenly 
and  eternal  glory — an  influence  that  makes  and  can  alone 
make  this  earthly  life  peaceful,  and  calm,  and  pure,  and 
prosperous,  and  ennobled — which  heightens  all  its  glad- 
ness and  makes  all  its  loads  less — which  hangs  a  heavenly 
lamp  of  hope  at  the  lowliest  lintel,  and  flings  light  as 
from  the  plumes  of  an  angel,  over  the  loneliest  grave — 
which  prepares,  and  alone  can  prepare,  the  soul  of  man 
to  pass  hopefully  away  from  this  scene  of  mortal  cares, 
and  to  cross  the  threshold  of  an  eternal  door,  and  move 
fittingly  among  those  higher  spheres  of  the  glorious  life 


TEE    MOTHER'S    SORROW.  349 

that  peoples  eternity,  and  to  wear  diadems,  and  to  wield 
sceptres,  and  to  grasp  destinies  of  unbounded  splendor, 
and  be  kings  and  priests  unto  God  for  ever  and  ever. 

To  that  believing  mother's  soul  this  Bible  appeals 
with  a  weight  of  evidence  that  is  demonstrative — over 
whelming.  And  the  shallow  cavils  of  an  infidel  libertine, 
and  the  blasphemous  rhapsodies  of  a  social  outcast  have 
no  power  to  weaken  her  assured  faith  in  God's  glorious 
oracles.  Religion  seems  to  her  no  poetic  dream  nor 
philosophic  dogma  —  but  a  momentous  message  from 
eternity.  It  is  the  revelation  of  overwhelming  truths. 
It  is  a  call  to  secure  eternal  interests.  It  tells  of  immor- 
tality— of  probation — of  retribution — of  an  eternity  of 
gloom — of  an  eternity  of  glory  !  It  stands  before  her  in 
the  pomp  of  a  crowned  creature  of  eternity  !  the  robes 
radiant — the  eyes  lustrous — the  voice  majestic — the  dia- 
dem ablaze !  And  with  all  tremendous,  resistless  elo- 
quence, warns,  pleads,  entreats  that  mortal  men  will  rise 
from  the  vanities  of  time,  and  aspire  and  ascend  to  ever- 
lasting realities. 

Thus  to  that  mother's  holy  thought  seems  the  religion 
of  the  Bible.  And,  bound,  as  she  believes  herself  to  be 
unto  a  land  of  heavenly  rest,  she  can  not  bear  to  think 
that  her  child  may  not  be  with  her  amid  those  glorious 
mansions  !  Whatever  may  be  your  unbelief,  she  is  per- 
suaded, that  without  personal  religion  there  is  no  eternal 
life  !  and  without  eternal  life  what  seems  all  the  world 
beside  ? — [wealth,  honor,  usefulness,  a  conqueror's  laurel, 
a  monarch's  throne  !]  Alas,  they  are  the  fair  flowers 
and  perfumes  that  only  make  more  terrible  a  martyr's 
death-pyre  !  A  son  aspiring  to  earthly  things,  yet  de- 
spising the  Gospel!     Alas,  it  seems  to  her,  as  if  her  boy 


350  THE    MOTEER'S    SORROW. 

were  floating  above  Niagara — now  amid  the  rapids — 
now  on  the  glass}''  death-curve,  reaching  for  those  gleam- 
ing rainbows!  Her  child's  hopeless  eternity/  Oh,  a 
thought  of  this  breaks  a  mother's  heart  ! 

Ah,  young  men,  who  perhaps  this  very  clay  have 
thought  it  little  that  you  turned  away  from  the  sanctuary 
and  broke  God's  holy  day — and  perhaps  to-night  will 
reject  this  Gospel  call,  and  go  forth  to  evil  courses  and 
companionships — pause  a  moment!  think  a  moment! 
Where  is  that  mother  now !  this  holy  Sabbath  night  in 
that  distant  home  !  Ah,  this  day  she  has  been  thinking 
solemnly,  sadly  of  her  absent  and  beloved  child  !  And 
see  her  now,  bowed  down  before  the  mercy-seat  praying  ! 
But  for  what  —  for  whom?  For  herself?  Ah,  no! 
Self  is  forgotten  now — her  own  feeble  strength — her 
declining  years — her  many  cares — these  are  all  forgot- 
ten !  Only  of  her  child  she  is  thinking — only  for  her 
child  she  prays !  And  what  asks  she  for  her  child  ? 
Health?  happiness  ?  long  life?  honor?  Oh,  no!  Not 
now.  Not  on  this  holy  Sabbath  night !  She  has  been 
reading  about  heaven  !  She  has  been  thinking  of  the 
possible  parting  of  parent  and  child  at  the  coming  Judg- 
ment !  And  now  all  earthly  things  seem  vanishing 
vapors !  Her  heart  is  burdened  with  a  mightier  want. 
She  prays  for  better  things  :  that  her  child's  heart  may 
be  broken  in  penitence — that  her  child's  feet  may  be 
turned  into  paths  of  salvation  !  Ah  me  !  those  pleading 
prayers  of  wrestling  agony,  those  quivering  lips,  those 
pillows  bathed  in  tears,  prove  that  an  impenitent  son  is 
a  heaviness  to  his  mother! 

And  this  is  the  text's  thought.  This  is  the  motive 
with  which  we  would  fain  arrest  your  feet  in  their  evil 


,       THE    MOTHER' S    SORROW.  351 

courses!  0  men!  young  men!  think  of  your  mother/ 
That  mother  that  watched  over  you  in  childhood,  and 
prayed  for  you  in  youth ;  who,  when  earth  was  beautiful  and 
life  Avas  young,  made  the  world  fairer  with  her  smile  of 
trustful  love  and  faith.  And  when  misfortune  came,  and 
friends  deserted,  and  the  world  frowned,  and  there  was 
no  rainbow  for  the  clay's  storm,  and  no  star  for  the  mid- 
night gloom — who  then,  only  the  closer  for  the  tempest, 
took  you  in  holy  fondness  to  her  tender  heart.  And 
there  was  no  tear  that  she  did  not  wipe,  and  no  sorrow 
that  she  did  not  share,  and  no  howl  of  infamy  that  could 
shake  her  faith ;  and  no  shadow  that  could  send  a  chill 
into  the  depths  of  that  mighty  and  immortal  love.  Oh, 
that  mother — think  of  that  mother  /  and  remember  sim- 
ply this  :  That  if  you  are  walking  in  sinful  and  forbidden 
ways  ;  yea,  if  you  are  only  living  "  without  God  and 
without  hope" — if  you  do  no  more  than  turn  away  this 
night  in  impenitence,  rejecting  your  Saviour — if  from 
your  father's  glorious  God,  and  your  mother's  blessed 
heaven,  you  go  forth  this  solemn  Sabbath  hour,  obstinate, 
rebellious,  then  you  go  forth  to  trample  under  foot  the 
tears  and  the  love  of  the  breaking  heart  of  her  who  bore 
you,  and  are  this  very  hour  a  burden  that  may  not  be 
imagined — lead  !  adamant !  a  mountain  !  a  ponderous 
world  !  a  crushing  universe  !  an  impenitent  and  ungodly 
child  !     "A  foolish  son,  the  heaviness  of  his  mother  /" 


PKOGRESS  IN  DECAY. 


"  The  flower  fadeth." — Isaiah,  xl.  7. 

There  are  at  least  two  sides  to  every  thing.  To  every- 
thing in  morals  there  is  a  dark  and  a  bright  side.  Every 
truth  is  a  revelation  of  God — a  Theophany — a  Shechinah. 
And,  as  the  divine  pillar  in  the  Exodus  had  sometimes  an 
aspect  of  cloud,  and  sometimes  of  fire,  so  is  it  with  all 
truth.  Its  appearance  alters  with  our  own  changes  of 
character  or  condition ;  to  the  eye  of  sense  it  may  be  a 
Shechinah  of  gloom,  to  the  eye -of  faith  a  Shechinah  of 
glory.     Thus  is  it  with  our  text. 

"  The  flower  fadeth." — It  is  a  prophetic  illustration  of 
the  evanescence  of  human  life.  And  to  the  hearing  of 
sense  it  is  touchingly  mournful — the  very  refrain  of  a 
dirge  !  It  is  common  in  the  rhetoric  of  the  Bible  to  com- 
pare human  life  to  a  flower.  And  here  its  decline  is 
emblemized  by  a  flower's  decay.  The  whole  scope  of  the 
context  is  the  brevity  of  man's  sojourn  on  earth.  "All 
flesh  is  grass,  and  all  the  goodliness  thereof  is  as  the  flower 
of  the  field:  the  grass  loithereth:  because  the  spirit  of  the 
Lord  bloweth  upon  it :  surely  the  people  is  grass?'' 

"  The  flower  fadeth?'1 — I.  Let  us  contemplate  it  first  by 
the  eye  of  sense.  Let  us  sit  solemnly  together  in  the 
shadow  of  the  Shechinah.  How  depressing  seems  the 
thought !     How  sad  the  emblem !     What  a  tender  and 


P  li  OGRESS    IK    DECAY.  353 

fragile  growth  is  "  the  grass  !"  How  short-lived  all  the 
goodliness  of  "the  flower  of  the  field!"  The  hardiest 
lives  hut  a  few  days;  the  frailest  hut  a  few  moments! 
And  yet  such  is  human  life  !  Its  whole  history  is  written 
on  the  flower's  fading  leaf.  And  the  truth  is  especially 
befitting  the  closing  meditation  of  the  year. 

"  The  flower  fadeth  /" — How  impressive  the  truth  when 
toe  think  of  others — the  beloved  of  home  and  life!  How 
hath  every  year  of  our  past  been,  like  a  day  whose  hours 
should  be  indicated  by  the  Linnsean  flower-dial — the 
opening  and  folding  of  different  blossoms  in  their  order — 
marked  and  remembered  by  the  passing  away  of  beloved 
ones  to  return  no  more  !  Go  hack  into  childhood  !  You 
may  have  only  just  passed  its  bright  morning,  neverthe- 
less you  too  have  your  dead !  There  are  graves  over 
which  even  your  young  heart  breaks.  The  father  whose 
strong  arm  upheld  your  faltering  steps  !  the  mother  whose 
soft  voice  lulled  you  to  slumber  !  the  young  brother  or 
sister  who  shared  your  childish  sports  and  toys !  these 
may  have  passed  from  you  !  And  your  short  life  hath 
been  measured,  as  by  the  opening  and  shut  of  blossoms 
on  "  a  dial  of  flowers  !  "  And  if  you  are  older,  more 
touching  still  is  the  emblem.  Where  are  the  happy 
children  who  sat  with  you  in  the  school,  and  went  forth 
in  your  holiday?  the  youthful  hand  that  walked  beside 
you  in  life's  green  and  sunny  paths  ?  the  men  and  women 
who  shared  with  you  life's  heavier  tasks  and  strangely 
saddened  joys  ?  How  many  of  them  do  you  meet  to- 
day ?  Alas,  most  truly  is  your  life's  horologe  "  a  dial  of 
flowers." 

"The  flower  fadethf" — Hoav  impressive  the  truth  vjhen 
you  think  of  yourselves !     Where  now  is  the  bounding 


354  PROGRESS    IN    DECAY. 

heart  of  your  childhood  ?  Where  the  unclouded  hope- 
fulness of  youth?  Life  seems  to  you  no  longer  a  rapt- 
urous holiday — the  freshness,  the  brightness,  the  lavish 
aroma,  the  glorious  bloom  are  gone  forever !  The  flower 
— the  flower  fadeth  ! 

And  verily  the  thought  saddens  us.  We  are  in  the 
shadow  of  the  Shechinah  !  You  do  not  utter  the  text 
cheerily.  The  voice  sinks  instinctively  into  mournful 
cadence  !  Even  the  glad  heart  of  childhood  bemoans  the 
bloom  of  its  withered  garlands  !  There  is  something  so 
inexpressibly  beautiful  in  the  flowers  themselves:  so 
much  of  eloquence  in  their  ministries  and  language,  that 
the  decay  of  even  the  commonest  and  smallest  depresses 
the  spirit. 

And  the  moral  truth  is  more  solemn  than  its  emblem. 
The  evanescence  of  human  life ;  the  passing  away  of  our 
years ;  the  decay  of  whatsoever  makes  those  years  bliss- 
ful— all  this  has  ever  been  a  theme  of  melancholy  musing. 
As  the  tide  of  time  rolls  on,  first,  youthful  beauty  fades 
like  a  flower !  watch  it  as  you  will,  guard  it  as  you  may, 
yet  the  cheek  will  lose  its  color  and  the  eye  its  fire ! 
Then  activity  declines,  the  airy  step  of  childhood  flags 
into  the  slow  measures  of  weary  feet!  Then  strength 
decays,  the  right  arm  loses  its  cunning,  the  form  bends 
under  its  load!  Meanwhile  even  the  moral  man  seems  to 
share  the  infirmities  of  the  physical,  the  tender  affections 
are  chilled  and  torpid,  the  glorious  intellect  unhinged  or 
exhausted,  as  under  the  spells  of  on-coming  winter.  And 
it  is  all  saddening — this  withering  of  the  human  blossom, 
and  the  heart  recoils  from  its  emblem — a  fading  flower ! 

And  therefore  it  is  a  fitting  theme  for  our  meditation  in 
this  last  Sabbath  of  the  year.    Indeed,  to  the  eye  of  sense, 


PROGRESS    IN    DECAY.  355 

these  gay  holidays  seem  untimely — as  if  we  were  rejoicing 
over  decay  !  Another  period  of  probation  is  ended.  An- 
other stage  accomplished  in  our  journey  to  the  grave. 
And  even  if  it  has  been  a  year  filled  with  divine  mercies, 
yet  they  sadden  us  as  things  taking  flight! 

Surely  solemn  thoughts  and  emotions  become  us  to- 
day ;  ours  should  be  hearts  regretful  for  the  past,  resolved 
for  the  future.  Warned  by  these  memorials  of  decay  we 
should  redeem  the  time  that  remains  ! 

This,  as  we  sit  in  its  shadow,  is  the  text's  lesson.  Let 
us  so  live  that  it  may  be  said  of  us  truly,  "  His  glorious 
beauty  was  a  Aiding  flower."  For  the  fading  flower  hath 
fulfilled  well  its  ministry !  Was  its  life  long  or  short ; 
was  its  beauty  great  or  little ;  was  its  sphere  wide  or 
narrow,  the  flower  spoken  of  in  the  text  had  done  well 
the  special  work  God  gave  it  to  do.  It  may  have  been 
the  rose  of  Sharon  in  the  imperial  gardens;  it  may  have 
been  the  queenly  lily  in  some  fair  valley  of  Galilee ;  it 
may  have  been  some  brilliant  pomegranate  in  a  rich  old 
orchard ;  it  may  have  been  some  humble  flower  of  the 
fragile  grasses  that  crowned  the  Syrian  hills  as  with  a 
diadem. 

Richly  varied  and  full  of  splendor  was  the  flora  of 
the  now  barren  and  desolate  Palestine  in  the  days  when 
Isaiah  swept  from  his  harp  this  requiem  to  the  withering 
flower !  And  we  know  not  on  which  of  them  all  his  in- 
spired vision  rested.  But  we  do  know  that  it  was  upon 
one  which  had  both  blessed  man  and  glorified  God  in  its 
life! 

In  nothing,  perhaps,  are  there  more  notable  differences 
than  in  the  spheres  and  services  of  flowers.  In  the  wild 
howling  desert,  where  the  fell  simoom  breathes,  and  the 


356  PROGRESS    I  IT    DECAY. 

fierce  sun  burns,  the  stalely  palm  waves  its  radiant 
flower-tuft,  and  many  a  lowly  plant  and  shrub  open  fra- 
grant blossoms.  And  amid  Polar  ice-fields  and  in  the 
fissured  lava  of  volcanoes  come  forth  these  sweet  chil- 
dren of  the  summer  in  their  ministry  of  beauty  and  of 
love.  Meanwhile,  earth's  fairer  fields  are  beautified,  like 
old  Eden,  with  their  blessed  omnipresence.  They  are 
all  of  different  classes  and  uses ;  but  each,  in  its  own  sea- 
son and  sphere,  makes  its  little  life  a  blessing — and  the 
air  of  heaven  is  sweeter,  and  insect-life  is  fed,  and  the  heart 
of  childhood  is  thrilled  with  joy,  and  the  soul  of  wearied 
manhood  is  made  happier  and  holier,  because  of  the 
silent,  yet  earnest  ministries  of  the  fading  flower !  And 
blessed  shall  we  be  if  thoughts  like  these  come  with  this 
consciousness  of  our  own  fading  being  !  If  we  too,  in 
our  own  spheres  and  seasons — seasons,  it  may  be,  short 
as  that  of  the  primrose  amid  melting  snows,  and  spheres 
humble  as  the  violet's  in  some  lonely  vale — are,  as  well, 
fulfilling  our  appointed  tasks,  doing  some  good  unto 
men,  bringing  some  glory  unto  God ;  so  that,  as  at  the 
departure  of  something  whose  life  was  beneficent,  and 
whose  memory  will  be  fragrant,  men  watch  our  declining 
days  and  strength,  saying  sadly  and  regretfully — "  The 
flower  fadetii  !" — "  The  flower  fadeth  /" 

II.  But  we  may  not  linger  longer  on  this  sad  lesson  of 
the  text — this  shadow  of  our  truth  — this  eloud-side  of  our 
Shechinah.  For,  as  we  said  at  first,  it  has  a  bitter  and 
a  bright  side.  To  the  eye  of  faith  the  Shechinah  is 
glorious.  If  you  will  remember  that  flowers  faded  annu- 
ally in  the  old  Eden  ;  and  that,  if  the  Apocalyptic  "  tree 
of  life  "  be  a  reality,  there  must  be  an  opening  and  dying 
of  {lowers  even  in  heaven,  then  you  will  feel  that,  self- 


PROGRESS    IN    DECAY.  357 

considered,  there  is  nothing  really  to  sadden  in  these 
phenomena  of  vegetation. 

Indeed,  did  these  tides  of  time  roll  over  a  sinless 
world,  every  premonition  even  of  our  mortal  decay 
would  awaken  only  joyful  anticipations  and  emotions. 
And,  instead  of  uttering  it  with  a  dirge-like  cadence,  it 
would  be  with  exulting  look  and  voice  he  cried — "  The 
flower  fadeth"— "  Look  !  Behold  !  Blessed  be  God— the 
flower  fadeth !" 

For  what,  after  all,  is  a  flower  ?  Is  it  in  itself  a  per- 
fection— a  consummation  ? — ah  no  ! — far  from  it !  It  is,  at 
most,  a  phenomenon  of  progress  !  And  its  decay  is  only 
the  passing  away  of  a  good  thing,  giving  place  to  a  better  ! 
The  great  end  and  purpose  of  all  vegetable  life  is  the  per- 
fected seed!  Buds,  flowers,  fruity  pulps,  rinds,  husks, 
shells,  are  all  only  parts  of  the  same  process.  And  thus, 
when  the  flower  in  its  mysterious  function  has  produced 
and  given  form  to  the  embryon  fruit,  it  falls  away,  as 
something  no  longer  useful.  And,  as  the  better  thing 
takes  its  place  on  the  stem,  the  philosophic  thought 
should  be  in  gladness — "  the  flower  fadeth" — and  now 
we  shall  have  fruit! 

And  analogous  to  this,  is  the  progress  and  develop- 
ment of  man's  mortal  life.  Its  earthly  oflices  and  uses 
are  only  for  the  strengthening  within  of  the  spiritual 
and  immortal! — i. e.,  our  present  life,  with  all  its  ac- 
tivities and  enjoyments,  is  but  the  flower-form  of  a  being 
whose  fruit-form,  or  seed-form,  is  in  an  after  and  higher 
life  !  And  death  itself  is  no  more  than  the  falling  of  the 
petals  from  the  well-set  fruit.  And  therefore,  as  the 
wise  husbandman  grieves  not  when  his  orchards  shower 
their  gay  blossoms,  but  rejoices,  rather,  because  this  is 


358  PROGRESS    IN    DECAY. 

but  a  prophecy  and  promise  of  the  golden  wealth  of 
autumn,  so  we  should  not  grieve  when,  in  the  devel- 
opment of  man,  the  mortal  flower-leaves  fall  away  from 
the  swelling  fruit  of  immortality  ! 

Had  we  the  limits,  it  would  not  be  tmprofitablc  to 
consider  the  analogy  between  vegetable  and  human  life 
in  regard  simply  of  the  earthly.  It  applies  to  individ- 
uals. Fruit  is  always  of  greater  value  than  flowers. 
And,  therefore,  the  trained  intellect ;  the  calm  judg- 
ment ;  the  sanctified  affections ;  the  subdued  passions  ; 
the  strong,  regnant  conscience  of  the  mature  man,  are 
worth  incalculably  more  than  the  fiery  impulses,  the  hot 
and  headlong  passions,  and  all  the  prodigal  bloom  and 
aroma  of  his  younger  and  fairer  life.  It  applies  as  well  to 
communities  or  nations — to  that  organic  life  of  the  race 
which  constitutes  its  oneness.  Here,  too,  the  fruit  is 
worth  more  than  the  flowers. 

The  world  has  had  its  radiant  spring-time  and  its  gor- 
geous flora.  In  Rome,  Greece,  Persia,  Egypt,  Assyria, 
Judea,  human  nature  put  forth  splendid  blossoms  until 
the  whole  air  was  fragrant  with  intoxicating  aroma. 
The  old  philosophy,  the  old  mythology,  the  old  arts  and 
eloquence  and  poetry — the  whole  power  and  passion  of 
the  young  imperial  genius  of  old  time  gave  to  earth  the 
seeming  of  a  fairy  palace  filled  with  shapes  and  sounds 
of  surpassing  splendor. 

And  verily  that  weird  glory  hath  passed  away  !  The 
rainbow  hath  left  the  cloud  !  "  The  flower  fadeth  /" 
But  have  Ave  lost  by  the  decay  ?  Are  earth  and  life 
sadder  than  in  those  heroic  times  ?  Would  you  exchange 
your  printing-press  for  all  the  pencils  of  old  artists  and 
the  tongues  of  old  orators,  and  the  harps  of  old  min- 


PROGRESS    IN    DECAY.  359 

Btrels?  Would  you  barter  railroad  and  telegraph  and 
steamship  for  all  the  radiant  dreams  of  the  old  idealists? 
"Would  you  give  up  your  simple  Christian  faith  for  the 
old  gorgeous  mythology — your  unadorned  sanctuary  for 
the  glorious  Pantheon — your  liumble  missionary  in 
heathen  lands  for  the  old  crusading  chivalry  on  march  to 
Christ's  sepulchre?  "Will  you  bid  the  substantial  fruit 
go  back  into  the  splendid  blossom?  Ah!  no  indeed! 
Fair  as  flowers  are  in  their  season,  glorifying  forest  and 
field  with  their  bloom  and  odor,  yet  more  precious  unto 
men  are  the  golden  grains  and  ripe  fruits  of  the  sombre- 
tinted  autumn  !  And  as  phenomenal  of  simple  mortal 
life,  we  can  say  exultingly — "  The  flower  fadeth  ! '" 

i  ut  in  our  present  meditation  we  are  considering  the 
whole  of  earthly  life  as  the  flower-form,  rudimental  to  the 
heavenly  fruit-form,  and  the  analogy  between  flower-life 
and  man-life  is  manifold. 

1.  Flowers  differ  widely  in  their  beauty  and  glory. 
And,  among  species  ranking  as  equals,  how  the  lily  dif- 
fers from  the  rose,  and  both  from  the  violet ! 

Yea,  even  of  species,  what  a  wide  and  wondrous  va- 
riety !  The  aloe  shoots  forth  one  mighty  flower  in  a  cen- 
tury, and  a  thousand  spectators  delight  to  watch  its 
development  and  decay.  But  myriads  of  myriads  of 
grasses  and  grains  burst  every  hour  into  blossom,  unseen, 
perhaps,  save  by  God's  omniscient  eye  !  And  so  is  it  of 
humanity.  It  has  its  roses  and  lilies  and  violets;  and 
now  and  then  a  magnificent  or  monstrous  aloe,  and  always 
its  countless  myriads  of  flowers  of  the  grass.  And  al- 
though to  the  eye  of  sense  the  value  of  flowers  is  accord- 
ing to  their  outward  manifestations ;  yet  true  wisdom 
regards  color  and  aroma  as  only  phenomenal  of  progress. 


360  PRO  G  RE  8  8    IF    DE  OA  Y. 

Pi'esently  the  petals,  alike  of  the  grant!  flower  and  the 
tiny  blossom,  will  wither,  and  of  both  the  value  seems 
only  in  the  accomplishment  of  their  Maker's  purpose  with 
the  fruit  or  the  seed. 

And  so  God  accounts  of  his  children.  The  king,  the 
conqueror,  the  man  of  imperial  gifts  and  genius  will  die 
as  lades  the  great  aloe,  and  the  mean  man  and  the  humble 
pass  away  as  the  flower  of  grass.  And  then  the  search, 
as  material  for  the  Judgment,  will  be  for  the  fruit  or  seed 
of  the  developed  character.  And,  as  one  more  true  to 
his  spiritual  mission,  the  reward  of  the  peasant  may  out- 
weigh immeasurably  the  prince's  !  The  obscure  flower 
of  the  dusty  wayside  may  have  ripened  more  carefully 
the  inner  seed  than  the  rose  of  the  royal  gardens  ;  and  so, 
"  the  first  shall  be  last  and  the  last  first !  "     Meanwhile, 

2.  Flowers  differ  widely  in  their  seasons  and  s/Jieres  of 
influence.  Some  blossoms  open  only  for  a  moment  amid 
the  chill  airs  of  the  lingering  winter.  When  the  north 
wind  howls  through  the  unclad  forest,  and  no  bird  sings 
on  the  rocking  boughs,  then  the  snow-drop  shoots  through 
surrounding  ice,  and  lifts  its  exquisite  cup  to  the  lip  of 
fainting  faith.  Then  comes  the  gentle  primrose.  Sweet 
emblem  of  childhood  and  day-star  of  the  spring.  And 
fast  following,  as  on  airy  wings,  troop  the  brighter  and 
prouder  creations  of  summer  until  earth  seems  glorified 
like  the  old  Eden  in  our  delicious  June.  Nor  even  when 
the  summer  hath  died  royally  in  purple  and  gold  have 
the  flowers  all  withered.  Autumn,  too,  hath  its  flora, 
September  robes  herself  in  beauty ;  and  brown  October 
and  sere  November  bind  their  brows  with  garlands, 
wherein  the  passion-flower  and  the  tuberose  are  woven 
with  the  leaves  of  the  corn  and  the  vine. 


PROGRESS    IN    DECAY.  361 

And  like  these  are  the  spheres  and  seasons  of  human 
life.  Fair  children  die  like  snow-drops  in  the  early  spring. 
And  although,  at  first  thought,  their  brief  mortal  life 
seems  without  purpose,  yet  we  may  see,  if  we  will,  how 
in  the  heart  and  household  their  few  days  of  blessed 
visitation  wrought  as  wisely  and  mightily  as  the  ministry 
of  angels !  Oh,  thank  God  for  the  faith-strengthening, 
world-conquering,  heart-sanctifying  influence  of  these  pre- 
cious blossoms  of  the  world's  spring-time,  even  as  they 
wither  and  die  ! 

Then  comes  the  summer  flora.  Men  in  the  meridian 
splendor  of  their  powers  passing  away  as  vineyards  and 
orchards  and  meadows  shower  their  prodigal  blossoms. 
Nor  is  the  human  winter  without  its  flowers  of  exquisite 
fragrance  and  beauty.  We  have  them  in  our  midst,  men 
whose  gray  heads  are  our  crowns  of  glory — spirits  ele- 
vated and  chastened  as  they  stand  on  the  boundary  of 
two  worlds,  and  therefore  more  reverently  honored;  more 
tenderly  loved  than  Eden's  youth's  glorious  beauty — like 
the  lingering  flowers  of  autumn,  more  fair  and  fragrant 
because  of  the  disrobed  fields  and  forests  they  beautify 
and  bless ! 

And,  as  in  their  seasons,  so  in  their  spheres,  men,  like 
flowers,  differ.  At  the  foot  of  the  awful  arctic  glacier 
did  our  heroic  Kane  find  blossoms  of  delicate  beauty ; 
and  in  the  dreariest  waste  of  Sahara  the  eye  of  the  faint- 
ing explorer  grew  bright  as  it  fell  on  a  bursting  flower; 
and,  in  their  living  witness  for  God,  quickening  the  faith 
of  those  troubled  spirits,  those  frail  things  in  their  soli- 
tary spheres  wrought,  it  may  be,  a  nobler  work  than  all 
the  roses  and  lilies  in  the  gardens  of  kings  !  And  so  have 
we  all  found  lilies  blooming  far  out  on  the  bosom  of 

1G 


362  PROGRESS    IX    DECAY. 

wild  mountain  lakes;  or,  fairer  still,  night-blooming  flow- 
ers, on  whose  marvelous  loveliness  no  sunbeam  ever  fell, 
and  thereby  on  the  stormy  water  or  in  the  deep  night 
felt  our  hearts  more  truly  blessed  than  by  all  the  crowded 
flora  of  the  summer  fields  and  woods.  And  so  is  it  of 
human  influence.  In  the  loneliness  of  obscurity ;  in  the 
humiliation  of  poverty ;  in  the  dark  chamber  of  patient, 
unpretending  suffering,  have  saintly  spirits  wrought  a 
gracious  work  which,  in  the  reckonings  of  the  coming 
Judgment,  shall  seem  of  greater  worth  than  the  eloquence 
of  apostolic  men  in  the  palaces  of  princes,  or  the  heroism 
of  old  martyrs  dying  bravely  for  Christ. 

3.  Meantime  human  life  and  flower  life  are  alike, 
mainly  because  both  are  phenomenal  of  progress.  This 
we  have  already  spoken  of  as  the  bright  side  of  our 
Shechinah,  changing  the  seeming  of  our  text  from  a  sound 
of  requiem  into  a  song  of  triumph.  The  flower  fadeth. 
But  what  is  a  flower?  Only  a  temporary  protection  of 
the  inner  fruit  or  seed  !  So  that  when  its  petals  fall 
away,  it  is  only  as  the  removal  of  the  scaffolding  from  a 
perfected  temple  ! 

And  such  is  man's  earthly  life.  And,  therefore,  it  is 
short — as  the  flower-form  of  an  immortal  growth  under 
development  for  grander  forms  and  uses.  Verily,  our 
words  are  false  when  we  speak  of  old  men  and  old 
women  on  the  earth !  We  might  better  term  a  plant 
"  old  "  because  its  early  flowers  had  withered  !  Even  the 
nine  hundred  and  ninety  years  of  the  antediluvian  life 
left  the  spiritual  man  only  the  young  infant  of  immor- 
tality !  There  is  no  such  thing  as  an  old  soul  in  the  uni- 
v  _> !  The  fires  of  passion  may  die;  the  vigor  of  youth 
ful  hope  decay;  the  frame-work  become  decrepit;  even 


PROGRESS    IN    DECAY.  363 

the  heart  deaden  in  its  fervent  love,  and  the  mind  lessen 
its  imperial  range  of  thought  ;  and  yet  all  this  be  no 
more  than  phenomenal  of  progress — the  withering  of  the 
petals  around  seed  and  fruit  maturing  for  the  immortal  ! 
And,  as  the  fruit  is  ever  only  just  set  on  the  spray  when 
the  flower  fades,  so  the  man  dying  at  fourscore  is  only 
the  young  germ  passing  into  a  higher  form  of  the  endless 
life ! 

Earthly  life  is  short,  and  we  woidd  not  have  it  longer. 
The  season  of  flowers  is  full  of  peril  to  the  tender  germ  of 
fruit.  As  the  variable  spring-time  passes  into  the  sun- 
nier and  serener  summer,  the  husbandman  rejoices  more 
and  more  over  the  ever-ripening  harvest.  And  so  would 
true  wisdom  rejoice  over  even  man's  outward  decay.  And 
it  should  not  be  regretfully,  but  with  accents  of  joyous 
hope,  as,  sitting  in  the  bright  side  of  this  solemn  truth, 
we  cry,  " The  flower  fadeth." 

We  can  not  trace  the  analogy  farther.  Indeed  it 
scarcely  goes  farther.  Of  man's  future  world  and  work, 
even  with  all  the  light  revelation  casts  on  them,  Ave 
know  very  little.  Having  no  experience  of  such  things, 
a  language  which  appeals  only  to  experience  can  have  no 
power  to  describe  them.  But  even  in  that  direction 
these  earthly  analogies  may  be  suggestive.  Having  per- 
fected the  seed,  nature's  next  care  is  to  disperse  or  dis- 
tribute them.  Some  are  borne  away  on  their  own  airy 
wings,  and  as  they  float  up  in  the  sunshine,  freed  of  their 
heavy  earthy  beauty,  the  perfected  seed,  as  a  spiritual- 
ized blossom,  seems  fairer  than  all  flowers  !  Some  are 
borne  across  oceans,  and  take  root  in  other  continents. 
Some  find  spheres  in  new  islands,  making  what  was,  be- 
fore, a  desert  beautiful  with  the  rich  gaa  niture  of  summer. 


3fi-i  PROGRESS    IX    DECAY. 

Ami  what  a  development  some  of  them  have  in  the  after- 
life !  An  acorn,  which  a  singing-bird  might  bear  across 
a  continent,  becomes  a  giant  oak,  and  a  thousand  beasts 
and  birds  for  generations  rejoice  in  its  shadow  !  The 
Indian  fig-seed  germinates  and  takes  root,  and  lo !  the 
stately  banyan-tree  rises  and  spreads  itself,  each  branch 
bending  to  the  ground,  and  forming  a  new  stock,  until 
an  empire's  armies  are  sheltered  by  its  magnificent 
growth  !  Such  is  the  progress  and  development  of  that 
whose  young  life  was  born  of  a  fading  flower  !  Oh,  to 
a  prescient  eye  what  possibilities,  what  colors  of  beauty, 
what  forms  of  majesty,  what  felicities,  what  glorious 
hopes,  what  ineffable  fruitions,  are  embosomed  in  a 
seed  !  And  analogous  to  this — but  immeasurably  more 
wonderful — are  the  embryonic  powers,  and  shall  be  the 
development,  of  the  human  soul  in  the  after-state !  The 
babe,  whose  fair  form  we  laid  yesterday  into  the  grave, 
will  become  a  creature,  in  wisdom  and  power  and  love 
transcending  all  our  present  conceptions  of  what  Gabriel 
is — yea,  of  what  God  himself  is!  Of  such  things  we  are 
not  thinking  to  speak.  Of  the  immortal  man  changed 
and  glorified  we  could  not  perhaps  bear  the  blinding 
vision  !  And  if,  responsive  to  our  yearning  love,  one 
should  come  back  for  an  hour  to  move  visibly  before  us 
— revealed  in  the  realities  of  that  transepulchral  life — ■ 
instinct  with  its  new  powers,  clothed  upon  with  its  new 
organs,  speaking  with  heavenly  tongue,  wearing  the 
heavenly  diadem — oh,  then,  instead  of  a  joyous  up- 
spring  to  that  blessed  bosom,  uttering  the  old  familiar 
names— "friend,"  "father;'  "mother,"  "sister,"  "child" 
— methinks  we  should  shrink  abashed  from  the  blinding 
splendor  of  that  new  creature  of  God  !     Best  for  us  is  it 


PROGRESS    IN    DECAY.  305 

that  heaven's  wonders  are  unseen,  and  heaven's  words 

are  unspeakable.  Enough  for  us  till  our  own  change 
come;  ami  ours  too  are  the  eagle-wings  that  can  lieafloat 
far  up  on  the  azure  ocean,  and  soar  highest  toward  the 
sun,  just  to  know  the  great  fact  of  immortality — that 
death  is  not  destruction,  but  development — the  earthly 
flower-form  just  passing  into  the  higher  fruit-form — "  the 
mortal,"  not  destroyed,  hut  "  putting  on  the  immortal- 
ity;1' so  that,  perceiving  by  faith  how  the  blossom  falls 
away,  just  to  give  a  freer  sphere  and  a  fuller  measure 
of  God's  air  and  sunshine  to  the  growing  fruit,  we  can 
change  the  old  requiem  into  a  triumph-song;  crying  out 
regretfully,  but  rejoicingly — "  Tlie  flower — the  flotccr 
fadeth  !  " 

These  are  the  two  aspects  of  our  simple  text — aspects 
differing  like  the  dark  and  bright  side  of  a  cloud  in 
heaven,  and  yet  both  needful  for  our  instruction.  This 
truth  has  a  side  of  sorrow;  and  we  need  it  that  we  may 
not  fasten  our  affections  too  strongly  on  the  things  of 
earth. 

Ah  me  !  how  foolish  were  a  child  so  lavishing  its  love 
on  a  lil}r  or  rose  that  the  heart  must  break  forever  when 
the  fragile  blossom  dies  !  And  how  surpassing,  then, 
the  madness  of  an  immortal  spirit  loving  supremely  these 
earthly  things — wealth,  pleasure,  power,  glory  !  Alas  for 
them  !  The  flower  fadeth  !  Where  are  the  wise,  the  re- 
nowned, the  mighty  of  the  past  ?— the  kings,  the  conquer- 
ors, the  statesmen,  the  orators,  the  bards,  whose  names  are 
yet  powers  on  the  earth  ;  whose  tread  and  voice  shook 
the  world  V  Where  are  thoy?  Gone!  gone,  to  the  land 
of  darkness  and  dust  and  oblivion.  "  The  flower fadeth  /" 
It  must  fade,  for  it  is  a  flower  only.     Let  us  look,  there- 


366  PROGRESS    IY    DECAY. 

fore,  upon  earthly  life  as  it  is,  and  accept  the  text's  lesson 
of  the  evanescence  of  all  that  is  mortal.  Behold  that 
fair  blossom  !  How  like  a  crowned  queen  it  lifts  itself 
amid  growing  things !  How  the  sun  loves  to  shine  on 
it,  and  the  air  to  fan  it !  It  looks  like  a  creature  fash- 
ioned in  heaven  for  some  precious  purpose,  and  an  end- 
less life.  But  see !  ere  the  set  of  sun  the  radiant  vision 
passes;  the  bright  leaves  wither,  fall,  perish  !  The  beauty- 
decays — " The  flower  fadeth  ! '"  Truly  sad  as  a  requiem 
over  all  earthly  things  is  the  text's  first  utterance. 

But  blessed  be  God  it  hath  another  meaning,  and  may 
be  chanted  in  other  and  exalting  cadences.  The  flower  is 
not  a  perfection.  It  is  not  the  most  of  a  thing,  nor  the 
best  of  it.  Within  and  behind  the  sere  petals  behold  the 
expanding  fruit !  And  so  it  is  of  life  and  time.  There- 
fore, ye  children  of  God,  dwell  more  and  more  in  the 
bright  side  of  truth.  See  how  the  wings  are  growing 
strong  under  the  breaking  shell !  Behold  the  glistening 
plumes  of  the  angel  in  Gethsemane's  night !  Why  sit  for- 
lorn under  the  cypresses  where  the  beloved  dead  repose  ? 
They  overshadow  only  the  withered  garlands  of  the  ban- 
quet whence  the  glorious  guest  hath  gone  ! 

Why  bemoan  these  signals  of  your  own  decay — these 
growing  infirmities,  these  multiplying  pains,  this  dulling 
of  the  senses,  this  weakening  of  the  thought-wings,  these 
chills  upon  the  heart  ?  They  are  but  the  relaxing  of 
iEolian  cords  in  the  dews  of  the  day-spring ;  but  the  in- 
termitting of  the  eagle's  wing-beat  in  self-poise  as  he 
floats  nearer  to  the  sun.  They  are  phenomenal  of  ap- 
proach to  spheres  of  seraph  and  archangel. 

Thank  God,  when  vernal  woods  shower  their  prodigal- 
blossoms:  they  are  but  the  drooping  of  banners  in  gor- 


PROGRESS    IN    DECAY.  367 

geous  heralding  of  autumnal  kings  !  Thank  God  that 
our  years,  even  by  reason  of  strength,  can  be  only  four- 
score !  Thank  God  that  another  stroke  hath  fallen  on 
the  great  bell  of  time  !  Thank  God  that  the  mighty 
train  hath  accomplished  another  stage  toward  eternity  ! 
Thank  God  for  the  deepening  earthly  night,  dusking  the 
sheen  of  our  grasses,  but  brightening  our  stars!  Thank 
God  for  a  faith  that  changes  from  requiem  into  triumph- 
song  this  old  j^rophetic  dirge — "  The  flower  fadeth" — 
"The  flower  fapeth  '" 


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JUST    PUBLISHED. 


A.   ROMAN   AND    COMPANY, 

Invite  the  attention  of  the  public  to  the  following  work,  which  fills  a  place  in  the 
world  of  letters  heretofore  unoccupied,  anil  which  is  a  novelty  in  literature,  entitled, 

Confucius  and  the  Chinese  Classics; 

OR, 

READINGS  IN  CHINESE  LITERATURE. 


OOIsTTAHXTIlNrG  z 

Chinese  History  down  to  the  Christian  Era. 
Ancient  Empire  of  China.  Life  of  Confucius. 

Confucian  Analects.  Tai  Hok,  or  the  Great  Learning. 

The  Doctrine  of  the  Mean.  Mencius. 

It  is  edited  and  compiled  by  Rev.  A.  "W.  Loomis  of  San  Francisco,  who  brings  to 
his  task  the  resources  of  a  cultivated  mind  and  an  appreciative  taste,  and,  above  all, 
an  enthusiasm  in  his  subject,  which  makes  his  work  graphic,  striking,  and  intensely 
Interesting. 

No  question  is  more  frequently  asked  by  curious  and  thinking  people  than  this: 
What  is  the  literature  of  the  Chinese?  They  are  a  reading  people;  then  what  do 
they  read  ?  They  are  a  peculiar  people;  what  has  made  them  so?  They  arc  an 
nnchansinz  people  ;  what  is  it  that  has  fixed  their  habits?  In  order  to  answer  these 
questions  briefly,  yet  clearly,  the  compiler  has  given  selections  from  their  classical 
works,  where  may  be  seen  at  a  glance  what  their  ancient  sages  taught — what  their 
children  learn,  and  what  the  people  daily  quote. 

Pursuit  of  Knowledge  under  Dif-       Rules  of  Etiquette. 

ficulties.  Directory  for  the  Whole  Life. 

A  Confucian  Tract  Harmony  between  Husband  and 

A  Budhist  Tract.  Wife. 

The  Rationalists.  Apothegms  and  Proverbs. 

Tablet  Literature.  Chinese  Moral  Maxims. 

Ancient  Chinese  Poetry.  Modern  Chinese  Poetry. 

The  Harmonious  Water-Birds,  and  other  Pieces. 

•HIE  WnOLE  FORMING 

%  ^nnDjsomc  Volume,  large  12mo. 

A.    ROMAN"   &  .CO., 

SAN  FRANCtSOO,  OAL. 
NEW  YORK : 

17   Me u gee    Stiiket. 


©rfcers  from  ifct  Gratis  3&t£4)tttfuII]j  Solitittfc. 


DATE  DUE 

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